


The Last Action Hero

by kimstheworst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Reality, Blood, Blood Drinking, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Death, Demonic Possession, Dimension Travel, Exorcism, F/M, Fluff, Gross, Latin, Meta, Metafiction, Nerdiness, Real world, Time Travel, demon, real world vs fictive world, s1AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimstheworst/pseuds/kimstheworst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Supernatural fan crosses over into the Supernatural Universe.    </p><p>She tries to help the Winchesters, but in trying to change their lives, she might just unravel their entire world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Laughter, feels, and THINGS GETTING AWFULLY DARK AT TIMES

“Once upon a time, I saved the world…”

 

B _LAM! BLAM! BLAM!_

_gunshots rang out and the heavy metal door flew open._

_You, Sam and Dean burst through onto the roof of the apartment building._

_“Do you think they followed us?” you asked, out of breath._

_“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like they’d be able to make it up the narrow staircase.” Sam replied equally out of breath._

_“What the hell are harpies doing living in an apartment block anyway?!” Dean asked, leaning on his knees to catch his breath._

_“Deforestation?” you offered._

_Just then you heard the slow flapping of massive wings.  You, Sam and Dean directed your attention to the edge of the roof.  The monstrous woman-bird form of the harpy rose above the roof line and swooped toward you._

_All three of you ran for the other edge of the roof, Sam and Dean making it to the edge and over first.  Your feet hit the edge and you reeled around, whipping two guns out from your side holsters, previously concealed by your brown leather bomber jacket._

_Falling backwards toward the ground you shot at the harpy-_

_Once-hitting her wing and sending her back a little._

_Twice - hitting her center mass, her chest exploding with blood._

_And three times- hitting her square in the head and sending her body crashing down towards your falling one. Even though you had killed the thing, precluding some miracle - you were clearly a goner._

_But your miracle came.  In the form of Dean Winchester._

_Dean and Sam had managed to grab onto the rails of the fire escape, when they went over the edge, effectively stopping their falls.  Then Dean had quickly turned and somehow, inhumanly somehow, grabbed onto your leg stopping your descent and whipping you out of the falling harpy’s path.  You, of course, felt a sickening crunch as your leg stayed in one place, but your body continued its downward trajectory._

_Dean groaned trying to maintain a grip on your leg._

_“Dean Winchester, don’t you fucking drop me, now.” you griped._

_“Shut up. Shut up.” he groaned, his face growing red from exertion._

_Sam pulled himself over the fire escape rail and scrambled to grab your arms, pulling you to safety._

_Your face contorted in pain as you tried to stand up._

_“Leg broken?” Sam asked._

_“What? No.” you tried to take a step, but fell to the grated fire escape with a clatter._

_“Ok. We’re carrying you.” Sam ordered._

_“I’m a grown ass woman.  You don’t have to carry me.” you assered._

_“Get on Gigantor’s back, badass.” Dean said with a smirk._

_You let out a huff, but let Sam piggyback you down to the alley below, despite your displeasure with the whole infantilizing situation._

_Sam helped you to your room at the bunker, your leg now encased in a massive cast._

 

_“Ok, anything you need.  Just yell, or text.” Sam said leaving the room._

_Dean lagged behind._

_“I can’t believe you guys made me go to the fucking hospital.” you complained to Dean who took a seat on the edge of your bed._

_“Hey, Black Widow, your leg’s broken in 3 places.  That’s not something we can just fix with sticks and dental floss.”_

_“12 hours in the fucking ER, Dean.”_

_“They had tv.”_

_“Stuck on the 700 Club.” you pointed out “Whatever. Did you guys at least clear out the other harpies, while I was out?”_

_“Yep, there was just one other and it was a little one.  Don’t worry,  you definitely won MVP for this hunt.  Taking down the Big Boss.” Dean took a seat on the edge of your bed. “By the way, where’d you learn to do that badass running-off-a-roof-flipping-around-and-firing-two-guns-in-the-air-move?”_

_“I’m just that good.” you said with a smirk.  “Where’d you learn to grab falling people out of mid-air?”_

_“I’m just that good.” he said with a wink. “Shoulder feels a little dislocated, now though.”_

_“WE WERE JUST AT THE HOSPITAL.” you argued._

_“Nah, I’ll just let Sam pop it back in.”_

_“You’re ridiculous.” you rolled your eyes at the elder Winchester._

_“I’m adorable.” he said with that patented Dean Winchester smirk._

_It was hard to argue with him on that one._

_“Thanks for saving my life.”  you said._

_“My pleasure.” he said, leaning in, the emerald orbs of green sex that were his eyes boring a heated hole into yours._

_His lips met yours gently, at first, but then growing in hunger.  You threaded your hands into his hair._

_And holy bajingoes, you almost exploded into a million suns and your vagina exploded with doves like a John Woo film of sexiness._

_Just then you heard the flapping of wings and before you could even turn your head to take in his form you heard Castiel yell “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUCKERS???”_

_Cas threw you into a wall with a simple wave of his hand. You felt at least 4 more bones break on impact.  That was definitely going to hurt tomorrow. No, wait.  It hurt now. Yep. Lots of pain._

_“Dean, what the dick is going on?”  Castiel yelled with all the power of heaven behind his words._

_“I love Y/N, now.” Dean protested._

_“You love Y/N, now?”_

_“Yeah?” Dean cast his eyes down to the ground like a stricken puppy._

_“But you love me.”_

_“I love both of you.”_

_“Oh. So are we doing like a polyamorous three way relationship thing?” Cas said matter-of-factly._

_“Do you love her, too?” Dean asked._

_Cas shrugged “Eh. I could get on that train.”_

_“So, it’s decided.  We are going to buy a house in Vermont and have a cool polyamorous, multi-species relationship which the world will never understand.” Dean announced._

_“My bones hurt!” You yelled from across the room._

_“Hey, guys.  I’m still here, too.”  Sam said from the doorway. “And I would also like to say that I’m in love with Y/N.”_

_“4 way relationship!”  they yelled in unison, leaping into the air._

_“Score.” you whispered quietly from the corner of the room._

 

* * *

 

The light from the old-ass laptop lit Jax Rosenberg’s face in a blue glow.  The only sounds in the  tiny house were the occasional smattering of keys as the words came to her, coupled with the fan on her computer whirring its little heart out to try and expel any of the heat pent up inside. Her chin doubled as it was propped up at an almost right angle to the rest of her body.  The laptop burned into her stomach.  Not the best idea for a sweltering June night.

She paused in her work and slid down the creaky sleeper sofa, stretching while still balancing the computer on her hip.  Her Ben & Jerry’s t-shirt (a relic of the ‘90s) rode up, tightening like a noose around her neck.

 Her eyes quickly scanned the last 25 or so lines of what she had written.  Right up to about where she started spouting platitudes about “emerald orbs”.  She glanced at the clock in the corner of her screen - 3:00am.   Yep, that sounded about right.  3am was usually when the crazy started. She highlighted the last chunk of text and hit delete, deciding that it didn’t even warrant the dignity of a day after edit.

 She shut her laptop with a sense of finality, slipped it under the bed, and rolled over. Her tshirt pooled around her not insubstantial torso, she tugged at it for a few seconds, trying to twist it into a more comfortable position, conducive to sleep, but it proved mostly fruitless.  And tiring.  It was time for what little unconsciousness the incredibly late hour would afford her.

 

“It was the heat of the moment”  the Asia song blared from her phone in what seemed like the very next instant.  

It was Tuesday.

Obviously, it was Tuesday.

Tuesday’s had always been Jax’s worst day of the week.  First of all there was the whole thing of Tuesday being a nothing day.  Monday had the distinction of being the first day of the work week.  Wednesday was hump day. Thursday meant it was almost over.  Friday was a slacking off day, because it was the last day of the work week. Saturday and Sunday were the weekend.  Tuesday?  Tuesday was nothing.  The one possible thing it used to have going for it were new episodes of “Supernatural”, but that had switched to Wednesdays last March and also, it was currently hellatus.  So, Tuesdays were nearly insurmountable piles of garbage, and this one would prove no different.

 Her eyes opened and were greeted by a wall of fur.  Duchess, the overweight grand bernese, had taken to hogging the zero empty space next to Jax.

 She rolled over, finding that she was much closer to the edge of the bed than she had started out the night before. Duchess sure did like her space. Jax fished the phone out of the metal works of the pull-out sofa by its power cord and sliding her finger across the phone, silenced the tune for another week. The time glared up at her from the cracked screen- 5:00 AM.  

 2 hours of sleep.  

  _Fantastic._

 Jax had been sleeping on a pull out couch for the last 2 months, ever since her rent controlled apartment  was stripped from her by the death of her Old World Italian landlord.  She had sold most of her stuff and was now squatting in her aunt’s living room on the worn out sleeper sofa. The convertible couch sported a bend halfway to the foot so if she were lying on her back her legs would form a 160 degree angle.

 

“Okay, Duchess. Time to get up.” Jax said, attempting to push the behemoth of a dog from her place on the bed. Duchess groaned.

“Come on. Move.”  Jax pleaded.

Duchess growled a warning at Jax, but the dog finally listened and lazily padded off the squeaky mattress to go block a doorway somewhere.

 Jax folded the mattress back into the couch, so to the non-astute visitor it would be as if she were never there.  Her aunt told her she didn’t need to do this.  That it was unnecessary. Except Jax had left it out once and that garnered her nothing but snide remarks and disapproving glances.  She didn’t have to do it, but, oh yes, she did.

 There was actually an extra bedroom at her aunt’s house, but her aunt felt uncomfortable with Jax using it. She didn’t want Jax getting comfortable. She didn’t have to worry about that. Jax had never been anything close to comfortable at her aunt’s house.   

 Jax threw on her work clothes for the day and attempted to flat iron her hair into some semblance of order.  The smoothness would last all of thirty seconds once she stepped out the door and the humidity set in, but hey, she had to at least try.

 She gathered her phone into her purse and headed for the door.  She was confronted with a piece of recycled copy paper with the word “RENT!” in her aunt’s big bold magic marker scrawl.  

  _Fuck._ Jax thought. _Shitcockingfuck._   

 Even though she was just crashing on a couch, Jax’s aunt had made her agree to pay rent during her stay.  Which, Jax would admit, she had every right to. Still, it was difficult for Jax to get back up on her feet when her bank account was a sieve leaking into the joint coffers of student debt and her aunt’s pockets.  Jax was good for it.  If by good for it, she meant completely depending on the quarterly bonus she should have been getting at work that week to save her.    

 She settled in for her commute-45 minutes in the car with the sun and moon battling for supremacy in the early morning sky. She started to nod off in the car about three quarters of the way to the nearest subway station.  She flipped on the radio in an attempt to wake herself up and hit the scan button.

  _If we’re talkin’ body you got a perfect one...bbssptszzcht...me in the eye and tell me are you satisfied...bbssptszzcht...high of 97...bbssptszzcht...9-7-6-1-2-3-4, it’s the lotto line...bbssptszzcht...off with your head d-dance dance dance til your dead...bbssptszzcht...john mcgillicutty from winchester...bbssptszzcht...where were they going without ever knowing the way...bbssptszzcht...crazy on you cra-azy on you_

She stopped the scan on the old Heart song and sang along poorly, better than if it had been “Barracuda”, but still nowhere near listenable.

 Then there was another 45 minutes on the subway, wedged between two giant sweaty men taking up massive v’s of leg space, forcing her to shrink in on herself like a dying star.

 

She badged herself through security. An elevator immediately dinged open and she entered. After a few seconds the doors closed and she found herself all alone in the hideously designed box.  A light flickered along the ceiling.  And she imagined the shot that would occur at that moment if she were on The Show - the light in the foreground, she in the back, foreshortened and diminished by the high angle of the camera.  Seeming to shrink in its presence.  Then, of course, all hell would break lose.  The elevator would plummet or there would be a creepy ghost child or something.  As this was the real world, all that actually happened was that the doors tried to close on her once she got to her floor, because it was a shitty elevator.

 On to her desk in a long row of desks just like it.  A row of desks among rows and rows of identical rows.  She was the first one there that day, as she was on many days, with coworkers slowly filling in the empty work stations around her.

 She logged onto her computer, just like every day before, plugged in her headphones and started plugging away at work.  Your standard, run of the mill data entry for a flash sale site. Finding site bugs.  Fixing brand pages.  A whole bunch of crap that would never really matter or impact anyone until a soccer mom from Duluth meant to order one Elvis shaped vase and ended up with twenty instead.  That was the problem du jour presented at Jax’s morning meeting.

 “Guess she couldn’t dig Elvis” Jax quipped with a smirk.

“I think it’s more a problem that there were twenty Elvises” replied Jax’s coworker, Annie, the joke and reference obviously going right over her head.  Not like Jax really expected anyone to get it.  

 

 Another day of working her ass off at a job she didn’t care about.  At least she got to wear headphones.

 Around 4:30, she noticed her neighbors talking animatedly and put her music on pause to listen in.  

“Hey, did you get your bonus yet?” Person A said to Person B.

“Hold on, lemme check.” said Person B.

Quarterly bonus. Jax thought to herself. Dreams of being able to pay her aunt and maybe have a little extra to afford some Chipotle, danced through her head. Jax booked it to her bank website. Her account activity loaded and sure enough, there was an extra deposit from her company. - For $50.

 That was less than a .5% bonus.  Nevermind, her taco flavored heaven, she wouldn’t even have enough to pay her aunt this month’s rent.  What would happen?  Would she kick her out? Where would she go?  What would she do? She was trying.  She really was.  But no matter how hard she worked, she just kept falling behind.

To add insult to panicked injury, she heard her neighbor, Person B, say “$1000 are you kidding me? Who the fuck do you have to blow around here to get to a full 10% .”   

Person A “I know, right.  I’ve been stuck at 8 for a year, now. Whatever.  Did you see that video I sent you?”

“The cat one?”

“No, hippo”

Their voices droned into the distance.

8%? A thousand dollars?  These people were complaining about a thousand dollars, when Jax’s bonus wouldn’t even cover her train ticket for that month.  

“Jax, we enjoy your spirit, but you just started with us six months ago.” said BossConnie.

“But my numbers are good and I’ve taken on more responsibility, you, yourself said that I picked this stuff up faster than anyone you’ve ever seen and I get nothing, but positive feedback.” Jax argued.

“It’s out of my hands.” said BossConnie, simply.

“But you’re the one who decides the bonuses for this department.” Jax countered.

“Why don’t you use this as motivation for next time? Yeah? Okay, good talk.” BossConnie left before Jax could say anything else.

 

Jax returned to her desk, a new email blinking in her inbox- A message from BossConnie:

 

_Hey Jax,_

_Would you mind taking care of these before you go home tonight? They were supposed to be done last week, but it looks like they slipped through._

_Okay, Thank you!_

_-Connie_

 

Jax took a look at the attached work.  It would take at least another three hours.  She was tired and angry and done, but she had no choice.  On the plus side though, if she got home after her aunt fell asleep she could go one more day without her knowing she didn’t have her money.  

 

**Some Time Later**

Everyone had gone for the day.  Jax was still there, under the one remaining row of lights.  Her headphones and herself plugged in, as always.

 She flipped over to her Netflix tab just in time to see Sam Wesson plead his case to Dean Smith:  “All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut.  And I know - I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it, too.  We’re supposed to be something else.”

 

* * *

 

It was late. Much later than she would’ve wanted to get home.  But the ailing nature of her city’s decrepit subway system had come to add the cherry to her shit ice cream day in the form of a downed train, meaning her nightly return to the sleeper sofa was delayed an hour even longer than normal.

A sliver of light from the street lamp shot across the floor as Jax opened the door to her house.  “Jesus Christ.” she said stumbling in the dark, toward the sofa. She tripped and fell over something warm and furry, her knee hitting the ground hard and her voice sounding “FUCK”.  Duchess didn’t even stir.  Thank god, neither did her aunt.

Jax changed, set up her bed for the night, pulling pillows from the hall closet and settled into bed. She pulled her laptop out of its hiding place and jumped back into the adventures of Sam and Dean and Reader. Her arms t-rexed over the keyboard, her fingers flying over the missing “D” key as the words came.

 

* * *

 

_“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sam asked you as you moped into the MOL library looking completely stricken._

_“Nothing, just a bad day. Just everything that could possibly go wrong. Just not good.”_

_“Come on, it can’t be that bad.  Nobody died, right?” Dean asked._

_“12 people died.”_

_“Oh.” Dean’s face went into “aw fuck” mode._

_“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I was okay for awhile. This was good, but now I just don’t know. I was helping people. But now, I can’t even. I tried I really did. Those people, they still...”  you broke down into sobs then. Sam rushed over to you and pulled you into a hug._

_“Hey, hey. It’s okay.”_

_“No, it’s not! It’s not okay.”_

_Dean rubbed your back. “You can’t save everyone, ______.  Sometimes you do everything you can and you can’t save them. Sometimes shitty things just happen.”_

_“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.”_

_“We know.” Sam said._

_“Hey, it’s pretty late. Why don’t we get you to bed?”_

_“Okay” you nodded, not in any state to resist being babied._

_Dean took you around your shoulders and guided you to your room. He sat you down on your bed and pulled off your shoes and flannel._

_“I know I don’t deserve it, but can you guys stay with me? Please?” you asked._

_Dean looked you straight in the eye. “1. Stop it with that not deserving it crap. Self loathing is my thing. 2. Yes, of course. Sam, get the lights.”_

_Dean flipped off his shoes as Sam hit the lights. You laid down and Dean snuggled up against your back, holding you tightly in his arms.  Sam settled next to you and you snuggled into his chest one of your arms pulling him in tight, so you were now in a wonderfully warm Winchester sandwich._

_“It’ll be okay, tomorrow” Sam said kissing your foreh-_

* * *

**BA-BOOM!**

 The loudest  thunder shook the house and sent Jax jumping about three feet in the air as a giant bolt of lightning briefly turn the dark room to brightest daylight, before smothering it in pitch, once more.

 Duchess started barking relentlessly at the front door for some reason.

“Duchess, shut up!” Jax whisper yelled at the dog.    

Duchess kept barking.

This was ridiculous.  Duchess wasn’t even usually afraid of thunder.  Jax ripped herself from the bed and trudged over to the hairy beast.  

“It’s just thunder.  There’s nothing here.”

The dog started barking at Jax.

“Stop it.” Jax scolded pointing at the dog.  

Duchess snapped at Jax’s hand, almost actually making contact.  

“Jesus. Fuck you, too.”  Jax went back to bed as Duchess stood sentry at the door, staring at...something and periodically growling.  

 Freaky.

But Jax tried to put it out of her mind, clicking over to her tumblr.   She passed out taking in her nightly quota of all things Winchester.

 

* * *

 

As always, it was still dark out when Jax woke and stumbled out of bed.  Her half-conscious state rendered her that perfect mixture of clumsy and invincible, so it hardly even phased her when, with only one eye open she walked right into a wall with a thump.  A simple “Ow” was all that emerged from her mouth, when during her more wakeful hours, such a thing would have warranted a litany of swears and condemnation. She bounced off the wall and, righting herself, found her way to the bathroom and the toilet she so desperately needed at the moment.

What she didn’t notice was that when she hit the wall and bounced off with a simple “Ow”, something in her bed rustled and rolled over as if it had been briefly awakened.  

Jax made quick business of her early morning tinkle, flushed the toilet and washed her hands,  all with one eye open, the sheer idea of being awake yet, just too painful.  

She stumbled back to her bed in the dark and got back under the covers, where she had previously been snuggled up all nice and cozy.

Thirty seconds passed and she was once again already well on her way to sweet unconsciousness,  when a large figure in her bed rolled over.  

_Just Duchess._ she thought.

Then that large figure slung an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.   Jax settled into the warmth of the person behind her, it not even registering with her that something was amiss with the situation.  That dogs don’t normally do that.

It wasn’t until the large figure murmured “Mmmm...Jess.”  that Jax’s eyes boinked open in alarm.   

She leapt from the bed with a scream,  slapping and kicking at the figure as he tried to defend himself.

“Stop it.  Stop it.” the decidedly male voice whined.

Jax grabbed a lamp and backed herself towards where the door to the kitchen should have been. When she hit the wall, she groped fruitlessly for a doorknob that wasn’t there.  

A light clicked on, flooding the room into stark relief.

This was not her aunt’s living room.

This was a seedy motel room.

“Who the hell are you?”  yelled a man in a tshirt and boxer briefs, that Jax quickly realized was leveling a gun straight at her.

The large shirtless man who had been in her bed edged toward her, with his hands up. “Hey.  Hey. Calm down.  It’s ok.”

“Stay away!” Jax swiped at the tall man who had appeared in bed next to her.  

“Whoa!” yelled the shirtless floppy haired man.

“Put the freaking lamp down.”  commanded the man with the gun.

 

For the first time in all the confusion, Jax really looked at who she was dealing with.  Her moment of realization came in definitive stages:

  1. _Oh god I got kidnapped._

  2. _By two supermodels?_

  3. _Who kind of look like...exactly like_

  4. _...Oh my god._




Jax lowered her lamp a little.

“Jensen? Jared?”

“That’s your name?” said the taller of the two.

“No, that’s your…”  Jax’s face paled as she looked around the motel room.  All the evidence was there.  Table by the window with an old Dell laptop.  Crime scene photos.  A beat up leather journal opened up to a page that looked like it had been designed by Charles Manson. Ultra specific mermaid themed room.  All the evidence was there, down to the necklace hanging around the boxer briefed man’s neck.  These men were not J2.  And if they weren’t J2, then they must have been...

_…what in the holy french mistake..?_

“Winchesters.”  Jax whispered, fainting.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean Winchester dropped his gun and grabbed the lamp from Jax’s hands just in time for Sam to catch her before she hit the floor.

Sam dragged her to a nearby chair and flopped her limp body down.

“We need to start barricading the door at night.  If the meth heads can get in lickety split, then who knows what else.” Dean complained.

“I don’t think she’s high, Dean.  Did you hear what she said?”  Sam countered. Dean shook his head: No. Sam slipped on a shirt and continued  “Winchesters.  This wasn’t a drunk or methed out coincidence.”

 

Across the room Jax stirred.  Sam and Dean stood over her as she came to.

“Baby Sammy...”  she said looking at Sam affectionately, then swung her head over to Dean “Hey, there, Dr. Sexy.” Jax said winking at Dean, eliciting a very confused face from the hunter. “Gotta say this is the best dream ever.”

“Sorry, lady, hate to burst your crazy here, but you ain’t dreaming.” asserted Dean.

“Shh shh.” Jax said flopping her hand against Dean’s mouth. “Dean-o.  Just let the dream go where it should.”  Jax started rubbing up her hands up under Dean’s shirt.  

A mischievous smirk crossed her face.  

“Sammy. Kind of starting to like her.”  Dean said.

 

Sam shot Dean a bitchface to end all bitchfaces and grabbed Jax’s hands away from Dean.

 “Awww.  Whyyy you do that, Dream Sammy?” Jax pouted.

“Miss.  You need to listen to me for a second.”  Sam pleaded.

“Oh, what is it, Sam?” Jax said wrenching a hand away and pinching his cheek.  Sam pulled her hand away from his face and once again gently held her hands.

“You’re not dreaming.”

“Oh yeah, ok.  What I’m nightmaring?  Any second a monster’s gonna come barrelling in?” Jax mocked.  

“Well, in our experience, yes.”  said Dean.  Dean stood up and paced the room trying to think of a way to prove the actual reality of the situation to her.  He rooted through his duffel and pulled something from its depths.

“Ok, ummm, ok.  Sorry for this ahead of time.” Dean said.

“Sorry, for wha-Ahh!” Jax screamed as Dean slashed at her arm.   She cradled it back to her body in pain.  

Real pain.  

Not dream pain.   

It was bleeding.  

It was real.  

This was all real.  

“Dean!” Sam admonished his brother.

“What?  It’s the first thing I could think of.”

“This isn’t a dream.  This is real.  This is all real.  All of it’s real.  ALL of it.  And I’m in it.  Oh god.”  Jax muttered and rocked back and forth.

“Oh great, now she’s hysterical.”  Dean grabbed a towel from the bathroom to wrap around Jax’s slashed arm. “I preferred the frisky version.”  He said peering up at Sam.

“Yes, this is real, but it’s ok.” Sam rubbed her shoulders reassuringly.

“No, it’s not ok, you don’t understand.  This is definitely not ok.” Jax raved getting to her feet and began to pace the floor, still cradling her arm. “You two are fictional characters.  Fictional characters can’t be real.  They can’t.  It’s just how it is.”

 

“This needs to stop.  Do we slap her?” said Sam.  

“I’m not gonna slap her.” said Dean.

“You just cut her.” retorted Sam.

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna slap her.” said Dean.

 

Jax stopped talking and walked straight toward Sam and poked him in the chest, hard, testing his realness.

“Solid.” she said.

She walked over to Dean and squeezed his bicep.

“Really solid.” she iterated.

Dean smirked at the attention.  “I try.”

“Really permanent.  People. Ok. Well.  Fuck.” Jax sat down, her eyes darting back and forth as she tried to make sense of the situation.

 

“What’s your name?” asked Sam gently.

“Jax.  Jax Rosenberg.” she said.

“Well, Jax, I’m Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sam, but it seems you already know that.” offered Dean “The question is how do you know that?”

“That’s a bit of a loaded question.” Jax answered.

“We got all morning.” Dean urged her on.

 

 _Ok.  How to say this?  How to say this?_ “I’ve been watching you for a long time.” _Good job, Jax, choose the creepiest route._

“Oh, great.  Now we have a fricken stalker.”  Dean said with a heavy sigh.

“No.  Not a stalker, per se.  Ok, yes, obsessive. But not a stalker, because that’s impossible.  Ok, boys, hold on to your butts.  Because what I’m about to tell you is really weird. “  

“Weird, we can handle.” Dean asserted.

 

“From the fact that you two look like babies and you didn’t even try to figure out if I was a demon...I’m not!”  Jax said as Sam and Dean tensed up, ready to pounce “You are definitely not ready for this much weird.  Not yet.”   Jax paced the floor shaking her hands, gearing up for the best explanation she could muster.  

 

She shrieked out “Ok, so...I know who you are because,  where I come from your lives are my favorite tv show and it’s the year 2015.” in a lightning fast jumble, bracing herself for the impact of their reactions.

 

Dean raised a finger about to say something, but he reconsidered when no words came.

“What?” said Sam slowly.  

“I’m getting the salt, Sam hold her.” Dean decided.

 

“Wait, no! It’s the truth.  From where I come from your lives are a show called ‘Supernatural’, you’re going into your eleventh season and oddly enough your fanbase is actually growing like crazy.”

“What? How?” Sam asked.

“Probably because of Netflix, TNT.  You’re huge on tumblr.  That’s how I got hooked…”

“No, how are our lives a tv show, when...we’re...not a tv show?”  Sam asked confused by how he could even begin to phrase the situation.

 

“Oh, yeah. No fucking clue.  But it is.  And it’s my favorite, so this is kind of cool for me, although, also incredibly dangerous because everyone you guys interact with seems to have a 70/30 shot on the whole living thing and now i’m probably going to die, too.  Oh god.“  she deflated.  “Waking up next to Sam Winchester.  Yep, that is certain death.”

 

“Well, this is some brown acid I was not prepared for this morning.” Dean added.

“Ok, let’s just assume for a second that what you’re saying is true. Why would anyone want to watch our lives?  Our lives suck.” said Sam.

“Saving people.  Hunting things.  The family business.  Kind of irresistible, don’t you think?” she said, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them.

“Holy crap.” Dean muttered starting to believe her.  “Ok, I’m gonna need more coffee for...all of this.” he said, gesturing vaguely at Jax.  “We’ll go to that diner down the road.  Jax, you’re coming with.  Want to keep our eyes on you.”

  
“Um...guys, I don’t have any shoes.” Jax pleaded as Sam and Dean were already halfway out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Try as she might, tightening the shoelaces and wrapping them around her ankles several times only did so much to stop Jax’s feet from sliding around in Sam’s massive old crosstrainers.   They looked like clown shoes on her, the irony of which was not lost on her.  The bell above the diner door dinged as Jax followed the Winchesters inside, her feet flopping all the way.   

 They settled into a booth- Sam and Dean squished into one side,  Jax on the other.  A waitress hurried over to their table to take their order.

 “What can I get you?” the waitress asked.

Sam opened his mouth to order, but Jax cut him off, not even breaking eye contact with him, a sly smile on her face.  

“He’ll have the short stack with fruit and coffee.”

Dean laughed out loud.

Jax continued “And he’ll have...it’s breakfast...so, not a double bacon cheeseburger.  And they don’t have ‘pig n a poke’” she said thinking aloud “basically anything with a ton of bacon and eggs.  Give him all the bacon and eggs you have.”

“How you want them eggs, honey?” the waitress asked, completely unenthused with the way Jax was handling the situation.

“Umm...fried.” he said taking his eyes of Jax for only half a second.

Jax turned to the waitress offering her a warm smile to try and make up for her former rudeness.  “And uh...what kind of pie do you have today?” Jax asked.

“Strawberry Rhubarb and Apple” the waitress tapped on her pad.  

“Those good for you, Dean?”

“Yeah.”  he answered, all bemused smiles.

“He’ll have one of each.” Jax said turning back to the waitress.

“And you, hon?” she asked.

“Coffee.  Lots and lots of coffee.”

 The waitress scuttled off to get their orders in.

 “How’d you know that?” asked Sam.

“The show’s a little more vague on your breakfast orders than say lunch or dinner, but I took a guess.  How’d I do?” she asked, more than a little prideful that her near encyclopedic knowledge of the spn verse was finally serving a purpose, even if it was just a party trick.

“Pretty damn close.” he said with a half laugh.

 

Jax just stared at them incredulously, trying to wrap her head around the reality of them, a sad weird half smile on her face.

“Oh, man.” she said.

“What?” Sam said.

“You...both of you...you’re just..BABIES. You’re so young.” she said gleefully.

“I’m 26, Dude.”

“Sam, your hair’s so short.”

“Short?!  This is short?” Dean exclaimed.

“And Dean…”

“Whuh oh.  She gonna get you now.” Sam laughed.

“You’re largely unchanged.  Maybe a little more baby fat around the chin and cheek bones.” Jax concluded.

Dean stroked his chin self consciously.

“I’m not fat. You’re fat.” Dean muttered.

 

The waitress returned, setting the food down in front of the boys and filling a new cup of coffee for Jax.

“And your voice is so high.”

“My voice…” Dean started his voice going into a higher register.  He cleared his throat. “My voice is not high.” He asserted pushing his voice artificially low.

Sam laughed.

Dean took a giant bite of bacon, sulking.

 

“Man, it’s still all just about ‘finding dad” she airquoted “and figuring out what killed your mom.  It’s still so simple.”

“There is nothing simple about our lives.” Dean said defensively.

“Well, comparatively…” she rolled her eyes toward her coffee. “I mean, Dean, you’re still very Alec.”

“What does that even mean?” 

“Oh, he was a character on Dark Angel that Jensen Ackles played before he played you and…”

Dean put up a hand to stop Jax from talking, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  

“Ok.  Stop it.  Just stop.”

“He was still finding the character, a little bit.  Before that he was on a soap opera.  And a male cheerleader.  And a teen model.”   

Dean’s face went ashen. “I feel so violated.”

Sam started laughing uncontrollably.

“Laugh it up, you were a boytoy in an Olsen Twins movie.” Jax said.

“Ha!” Dean said pointing at Sam.

Sam’s elation fell.

“So, Jax.  Stupid question.  How did you get here?” Sam asked pushing the food around his plate.

“I don’t know.” she said.

“Do you remember anything?” asked Sam.

 

_The last thing that Jax remembered /_

_she was sleepy and perusing her tumblr dashboard/_

_when she found some sexy fanfic shoved her hand down her pants and masturbated to the boys because they were kinda hot and she fell asleep while masturbating and it was super awkward because she was on a pullout couch and that somehow transported her into the show but this isn’t a dream…._

SMASH CUT: back to Jax like a deer in headlights.

 “Nope.”  Jax said a little too quickly, looking away, the red rising in her cheeks and overtaking her face.

 Sam and Dean side eyed her, suspicious.

 “I mean, I guess the last thing I remember is going to bed.” she explained.

“Okay, so how does someone get transported through time and space to an alternate dimension  where her favorite tv show is a real thing?” Sam wondered aloud.

“Jax, did you wish real hard?” Dean asked, joking.

“Yeah, on an ancient coin I threw into a fountain at a chinese restaurant.” she threw back at him.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing.” she dismissed.

 

Dean pulled the slice of apple pie close and started forking it into his face.  He paused, catching Jax staring at him, smiling dopily.

“What are you smiling at?  What’s she smiling at?” he asked nervous.

“You’re eating pie.” she said.

“Yes? You ordered it for me, remember?”

Jax just beamed at him.

“Is she gonna start crying?” Dean said inclining his head towards Sam.

“No!” Jax exclaimed, starting to tear up.

 

* * *

 

Back at The La Sirena Motel, Sam’s bed rippled for a moment as if it had become temporarily insubstantial.  As if for a second it was not there.  A shadow emerged from the ripple and hovered over the bed.

 A maid pushed her cart down the motel walk and paused in front of the door to the Winchesters’ motel room.

 The shadow figure, the presence in the room who all at once was there and not there, took notice that something was standing outside the room and stiffened as if ready to attack.  

 The maid knocked, then reached for the doorknob.  That’s when she saw the “Do Not Disturb” sign, shrugged and moseyed on down to the next room.  No skin off her ass.

 The insubstantial shadow relaxed, then moved about the room.  Considering its surroundings.  Looking carefully for something.  It came to rest over Sam’s bag and reached inside.

 

* * *

 

Sam and Dean waited by the Impala for Jax to get out of the bathroom.

 

“So, what’s the plan?  What do we do with her?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know.  That thing with the...everything?  That was trippy.” Dean replied.

“Yeah, but it’s still not outside the realm of possibility of like a cold reading.”  Sam speculated.

“You mean like that d-bag John Edwards?”

“Yeah.”

“If she’s a scam artist, what’s the end game, though?  A bunch of stolen credit cards?  That rocket launcher we keep in the trunk for some reason?  It doesn’t make sense.”

“Nothing else, about this makes sense, either.” said Sam

“Well, we can’t just leave her.” Dean countered.  “She doesn’t know anybody in...this dimension...is something I just said out loud.” Dean wiped a hand down his face.  “I think we should keep her around.”

“What?  Dean, we’re supposed to be looking for Dad, not whatever the hell this is!”

“Whatever the hell this is?  She knows all about us.  She materialized in your bed, supposedly.  Sure, she’s a little, okay, _very_  weird, but she knows about us.  Don’t you think we should keep her around?  At least until we figure out exactly what’s going on here?”

 

Jax exited the diner to find Sam and Dean waiting outside the car, gesticulating tersely, obviously having an argument.

 “Are you guys done arguing about whether you’re going to help me or not?!”  She called across the parking lot, walking towards them.  “Dean, baby, did you win yet?”  

Dean mouthed “Baby?” to himself, genuinely confused.

 

Sam rounded on Jax.

“How do we know you’re for real and you’re not just stalking us or taking wild guesses?“

Jax narrowed her eyes, considering what bit of information would be most beneficial to pull at that moment.  

She settled on “Rhonda Hurley.”

Dean’s eyes went wide. “We’re good. She’s real. No more questions.”

“What? No. Who the hell is Rhonda Hurley?” Sam demanded.

“She-” Jax started with a big shit eating grin. Dean clapped a hand over her mouth.

“She’s nothing.  It’s nothing.” Dean scrambled. Jax huffed then ripped Dean’s hand off her mouth.

“That still doesn’t prove anything.” Sam pushed.

“I beg to differ. I think everyone’s convinced and we shouldn’t ask anything more about that name from before. What was that name? It wasn’t a name. No one remembers. No one cares let’s stop it. Nothing happened.” Dean rambled out in a jumble.

Jax, like Sam, disregarded Dean’s nervous breakdown “You want me to prove myself, Sam?  Fine. Where are we?”Jax asked.

“Don’t tell her” said Sam.

“I’m not psychic I’m remembering the episodes.  You need to tell me where we are, so I know what episode we’re on.  So I know what you’ve done.”

“We just came from Wisconsin.” Dean provided.

“Lake Manitoc?”

“Yeah.” Sam said.

“Ok, so that’s ‘Dead in the Water’, so…” she paused, eyes darting between Sam and Dean in trepidation. “Ummm...why don’t we go talk over there?” she gestured in an attempt to guide Sam out from Dean’s earshot.  

“What? No.” Sam protested.

Dean started “Oh come on! For him it’s all privacy, but when it involves me and pink satin panties-”

“What?” Sam interrupted.

Dean froze. Caught. “Crap.” He uttered, squishing his face up in embarrassment. 

“Anything you can say in front of me, you can say in front of Dean.” Sam asserted.

“While I appreciate the solidarity here, what I have to say might sound better to Dean coming out of your mouth.” Jax warned.

“Just say it, Jax.” 

Jax let out an exasperated breath

“Ok so what I’m about to tell you takes course over like 7? Episodes? So you might wanna have a seat. Or lean against the car. Leaning could work. Or don’t move at all. That’s cool too.” she rambled.

“Jax!” Sam and Dean yelled in unison.

“Okay! Fine.” Jax tucked her hair behind her ears, focusing up “Sam you know those nightmares you had a few nights before Jess died?  The ones about, you know, exactly what ended up happening to her?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

“Well they weren’t nightmares.  They were visions.”

“Oh come on! Really?!” This was obviously a bit much for Dean. “What? Now he’s a psychic?”

“Sort of?” Jax offered.

“What does ‘sort of’ mean?” Sam's patience was growing so thin at this point it made Kate Moss look like a heifer.

“They’re Sam's demon powers." she turned to Sam "You have demon powers, because Yellow Eyes bled into your mouth as a baby.  It’s gross.”

“Who the hell is Yellow Eyes?” Sam asked.

“Yeah and why would that give him demon powers? Wouldn’t he just poop it out, like as a baby?” Dean interjected.  

“Dude, I don’t fucking write this stuff.  I don’t know the fake biology behind it.  The long and short of it, Yellow Eyes. He’s a demon. Real name: Azazel. He bled into your mouth as a baby.  Your mom interrupted him, so he killed her and he also killed Jess. I guess for the sake of literary symmetry”

 Sam stood, shellshocked.

 “They were killed by a demon?” Dean asked, catching up.

Jax facepalmed. “Oh my fucking god. I can’t even. YES.” Jax collected herself. “Sorry.”

 

“I guess you’re really not a stalker.” Sam said, his voice utterly resigned.

 “Nope. Just mild to moderately obsessed.”

 “So, you want us to help you back over the rainbow. That the general idea?” Dean asked.

 “Only because the death toll here, in general, is a bit too high for my taste.  Otherwise, I’d totally be down to run a B&B in Vermont with you guys. But you know this doesn’t have to be a one way street. guys.  You help me. I help you.”  Jax creaked the back passenger side door to the Impala open.

 “Help us, how?” Sam asked.

“Well, for instance, I know where John is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo much talking. Sorry.
> 
> Also, Jax's italicized flashback to what she was doing the night before is a reference to "The Legend of Neil".


	4. Chapter 4

The Impala roared down the road, in stark contrast to the silence inside the vehicle.  

After Jax’s reveal - that she knew of John’s whereabouts- there was the expected flurry of questions. “You know where our dad is?!”, “Where is he?”, “Is he ok?”.   She tried her best to assure the boys that John was ok, however she had to disappoint them with the fact that she had no idea where John was at that exact moment.  What she did know was where he would be at a vague when.  Sadly, the when was not for at least a month.

So, Jax and the bummed out Winchesters road along in silence.

For the first time, since arriving in the Supernatural version of the United States, Jax really took notice of what she was wearing.  Her ratty old Ben and Jerry’s tshirt and a pair of pajama pants with more holes than fabric.  Thank the lord, Sam had lent Jax his sneakers to wear into the diner, but if she were to run with the hunters, she better start dressing like one.

“Hey, guys? I don’t mean to put a brake on the proceedings but do you think we could maybe get me some clothes that aren’t this?” Jax leaned forward peeking her head between the brothers.

“What? You don’t normally the rock peace love and ice cream 24/7?” Dean snarked.

“Nah. Notsomuch.”

“You can just borrow some of our clothes.” Dean said dismissively.

“As much as I appreciate an invite into your pants.”  Dean’s eyebrows shooting up at that remark were not lost from Jax’s attention. She continued “I'm pretty sure I’m not gonna fit in your GQ motherfucker sized jeans, Dean.”

“You’re not fat.” Sam quickly rattled off in a panic.  Someone had trained him well.

“Oh my god, 1. I did not say I was fat. 2. Who gives a fuck if I am? I’m just being realistic, here, boys.  These hips ain’t fitting in your narrow ass jeans.”

Sam nodded toward Dean as if to say “She’s right.”  Dean rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Fine. First thrift shop we find, we’ll stop.” Dean relented.

“Finally. Jesus Christ; getting a fashion montage out of you guys is like pulling teeth.”

“We’re not doing a fashion montage. We’re in and out of there 20 minutes, tops. I will not be one of those whipped guys sitting on a couch, holding a purse, waiting on a chick.” Dean asserted.

“Fashion montage. Fashion montage. Fashion montage…” Jax chanted and clapped from the backseat  “Fashion montage to emasculate Dean!”

Sam’s eyebrows were up to his hairline in delight.

Dean was less than amused.

 

* * *

“I don’t care what my teachers say! I’m gonna be a supermodel!” Jax sang off-key as she emerged from the dressing sporting the latest American Eagle clothing castoffs 2005 had to offer.

Dean and Sam sat on the secondhand store’s one disused couch, arms crossed.

“How did this happen?” Dean muttered to himself.

“Check out these bootcuts.” Jax said almost delighted  “ And this embellished pocket on the butt. Ooh la la, 2005.  And oh, a hole in the knee, not because someone wore the fuck out of these, but because that’s how they were made.  Look at this, Dean. Look at it.”

“Fantastic. Can we go now?” Dean pleaded.

“These jeans are so low rise it’s gonna be coin slot city any time I move.”

“If you’re not getting them, why are you showing us?” Dean asked, frustration billowing.

“It’s fun.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m feeling that in spades.” said Dean, sarcasm so thick a razor couldn’t slice through it.

 

Jax went back into the dressing room to try on the next option.

“Hey can a part of this little montage be you giving us the skinny?” Sam asked, almost as annoyed as Dean.

“What do you want to know?” Jax called out from the dressing room.

“Let’s start with everything you know.” Dean said.

“Well, as far as you two are concerned.” Jax popped her head from behind the curtain. “Too much.  I know wayyy too much.”

 

Jax came out wearing a pair of mom jeans.  Definitely too far in the other direction from hip huggers.

 

“What I can tell you is this.  Where I come from, your lives are a tv show, we’ve been over that.  It starts when you, Dean, pick up you, Sam from Stanford….well, really it starts in 1983 when that awful thing happened, but that’s just prologue.”

Sam and Dean turn quiet, almost ashen from Jax’ offhand reference to the death of their mother.

“Sorry.  I have to keep reminding myself that this is actually your life and it’s impossibly hard.  But from where I come from these are all just plot points. And I’m sorry I have to remember this is actually your life.” Jax apologized for her lack of tact.

 

They nodded in acceptance.

“Ok.  Anyways you just came from ‘Dead in the Water’...errr. Lake Manitoc in Wisconsin.  You saved a ginger kid from drowning and you saved Fred from her bathtub.”

“Who the hell’s Fred?” Dean asked.

“Sorry, that was her character name on Angel.  She was heartbreakingly awesome.  But then she became a demigod because Whedon’s problematic as fuck and I cried forever.”

“Jax, focus!” Sam chided.

“Sorry, yeah.  Before that was...the wendigo at Black hills ridge, I believe is where it was and before that the lady in white who tried to have her way with Sam in Jericho.” Jax went back into the dressing room to try on her next option.  “Right here, the year is 2005.  You’re in your first season.  Where I’m from it’s 2015 and you’re going into your 11th season. That makes Supernatural the longest running sci fi series in the history of television.  Congratulations.”

 

Jax emerged wearing a cowl neck sweater with a belt around the waist, which served to give her a massive fupa.

 

“Well. We’re still alive ten years from now.  I guess that’s a good thing.” said Sam who was now idly perusing a rack of clothing.

“Yeah. Alive...ish.”  Jax said with a nervous smile, turning toward the mirror to deflect attention.

“Ish?’ emphasized Dean.

“You guys tend to die.  A lot.” explained Jax.

“Define a lot.” Dean cornered her.

Jax gestured toward Sam “7 times.” His mouth hanged, agape.

“You I estimate at 111” she pointed up at Dean, not even making eye contact.

Dean backed away from Jax.

“What...the...hell?” Dean whispered to himself.

 

Ultimately, Jax was able to find a pair of jeans that weren’t too coin slotty.  Still had a crazy embellished pocket, but this being 2005, there wasn’t much she could do about it.  Those coupled with a few flannels, t-shirts, a pair of boots and (thank god for some reason the store had new) underwear and she was good to go.  

Jax stood at the register, already wearing some of her new duds.

“Oh, Dean, honey.  Could I borrow your credit card?”  she called across the store.

He met her at the register.

“I seem to have misplaced my wallet in another reality.” she explained.

Dean groaned as he pulled out one of his many stolen credit cards and handed it to the sales clerk.

“You owe me.”

“Yeah, sure I’ll just make it up for you on the corner tonight.” Jax eyed him up and down. “You sure you don’t want a new jacket while we’re here?”

“What’s wrong with this jacket.  This was my dad’s jacket.  It’s a classic.” Dean defended.

“Yeah, I know.  Just maybe unpop the collar?  It stunts your height.  Makes you kind of look like a junkyard dog.”

Dean attempted to fold the collar down on the jacket, but it just popped back up.

 

Sam emerged from behind a nearby rack holding a button down shirt with a floral pattern printed on the inside, so the design bled through to the outside to give the effect that it was always inside out.

“What do you guys think of this?”  he asked.

“Sam, You put that shirt back where it came from, or so help me.” Jax said, suddenly very serious.

* * *

 

They piled back into the Impala.   Over the beautiful tones of Baby’s engine came the opening chords to Heart’s “Crazy on You.”

Dean immediately switched over to another station.

“Aw man, I like that song.”

“Driver picks the music…”

“Backseat shuts her cakehole. Yeah I know.  But come on.  Heart’s badass.”

“Never got into them.”

Jax gasped then added the word “GASP.” for emphasis. “Sir, you offend me.That opening riff. Listening to it really loud in a really beautiful, fast car.  There is nothing like it, you cannot deny that.”

“I prefer a little Zeppelin.”

“And I prefer we stop bickering about stupid crap on the radio, and focus on what’s important.” Sam interjected as he turned to the backseat “Jax, I’ve been thinking.”

“A dangerous pasttime.”

“You know where he’ll be in about a month.”

“Yep, the episode’s name is ‘Home’. It’s the first episode he pops up in after the pilot.  It’s the 9th episode.”

“Okay, yeah well, who’s to say he’s not already where he’s going to be, right now?  Why don’t we go now and find him and have it all done with?” Sam reasoned.

Out the corner of her eye, Jax could see Dean tense up when Sam mentioned having it all done with.

“And what if he’s not there yet, and our whole presence there that early scares him off?  And then you can’t ever find him?” Jax argued.

“Jax, tell us where he’s supposed to be.” Sam implored.

“No.” Jax refused.

“Jax please.” Dean asked.

“No. Not until it’s time. You don’t need him right now.”

“Jax, don’t you tell us we don’t need our father.” Dean said, barely keeping his anger in check.

“You two are just learning how to be brothers again and you can’t do that with your father around and I will not have you seeing him before it’s time.  Before you’re ready.”

“You don’t get to decide when we’re ready, Jax.”

“Who in this car, knows what’s going to happen for the next ten years?  Hands up.” Jax raises her hand. “Oh wow, look.  There’s my hand and umm is there anyone else’s hands up. Sam’s? Dean’s?  Nope.  Just mine?”

Sam sighed and turned back to the front.

“Guys, I know this sucks.  I’m sorry.  I know that. But it’s kind of how it’s got to be. ”

 

Jax sunk back into her seat, looking idly out the window at the passing storefronts.  When they passed a tattoo parlor s he almost jumped out of her seat.

 

“Oh my god. I’m an idiot we need tattoos,  like ASAP, like now.”

“What?” Dean asked, utterly confused.

 

* * *

 

Bent over a coffee table in the waiting area of the tattoo parlor, Jax put the finishing touches on her drawing and held it up to show the boys.

 

“This is an anti-possession mark.” she explained

“This douchey tribal tattoo?” Dean asked taking the piece of paper.

Jax snatched it back.

“This douchey tribal tattoo is going to keep demons from gettin all up in your fine ass.”

“Are the flames seriously a part of it?  I can’t imagine any kind of warding involving vector graphic flames.” Sam griped.

“You know, I’ve always wondered whether that actually contributed to its power or whether that was just you guys trying to make it look cool, but i think it’s best we err on the side of caution and keep them.”

 

Jax leaned by the door into the parlor room where Sam was getting his tattoo on his chest, wincing slightly, he gave Jax an unsure smile.  

Dean carefully pulled his shirt back on over his new ink and sidled up to Jax.

 

“So, uh where are you getting yours?” He asked.

“Somewhere not for general consumption” Jax countered.

“Oh yeah? Keep it your own sexy secret?” a sly smile on his lips.

“It’s harder for a demon to burn it off my skin if they can’t find it.” Jax said, matter of fact.

The dose of reality, sobered Dean from his flirting.

“But you just let us get them on our chests.”

“I’d like to keep some things canon.” Jax said simply, flitting off to the couch to wait her turn.

* * *

 

That night, back at the La Sirena Motel, Jax sat on the foot of Dean’s bed watching what few channels the crap turn dial motel tv afforded them while Dean readied for bed in the bathroom and Sam poked around in his duffle bag.  Sam finally gave up spilling its contents on the bed, causing a certain journal to flop onto the floor.  

“This is your dad’s journal, isn’t it?” she said full of wonderment “Is it okay if I look through it?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam said, obviously reticent.

Jax ran her fingers over the inside of the front cover, over the military ribbons, taking a second to flip over the old black and white photo to find the engraved “HW” and shook her head.

“This is crazy.” she said flipping through the pages she knew well, past entries with a familiar illustration of a wendigo, a mention of Missouri and finally coming to the page that said “DEAN 35-111” with a big circle around it.

“John Winchester’s actual journal...Do you know how much I could get for this on ebay?” she joked.

Sam took it out of Jax’ hands.

“Awww…”she deflated.

 

“Hey Dean!  Have you seen my shirt?” Sam called.

“The one you’re wearing?” Dean asked coming out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

“No. The purple one with the dog.” Sam explained.

“THE PURPLE DOG SHIRT” Jax squealed, way too excited.  Sam and Dean looked at her like she had three heads.

“Yeah... that." Sam said slowly rolling his eyes back to meet Deans.  "Purple.  Has a whippet on it.”

“What the frig is a whippet?” asked Dean.

“It’s like a greyhound.”

“So, just say 'greyhound'. Why the hell would I know what a whippet is? Why do you know what a whippet is?" Dean said whipping the blankets down his bed and settling in.

Sam shot Dean a look. 

"I haven't seen it, alright?" Dean responded. 

Confusion came over Sam’s face. “Haven’t seen what?” he asked.

“You were just talking about a ...shirt?” Dean asked.

“Huh? No I wasn’t.”

“What were we talking about?”

“Umm...where Jax was gonna sleep?” Sam said unconvincingly.

“Oh yeah…” Dean said seeming to remember.

 

_Well, that was strange._ Jax thought.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Early morning light and the muffled sounds of Mullet Rock filtered into the motel room where Sam lay sleeping.  He woke with a start, visions of his burnt girlfriend scarring his rest. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he noticed Jax sitting up on the couch where she had slept, blanket pooling around her waist, peering through the cheap motel room blinds.

 “What are you doing?” he asked sleepily.

“Subverting the male gaze.” she answered, completely allergic to straight answers.

“What?” Sam asked his face crinkled in confusion.

Jax turned her attention from the window.

“I’m staring at your hot as fuck brother while he tunes up Baby.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and flopped back down onto the bed an arm draped over his eyes.

“How were the nightmares?” Jax asked, a bit too off handed for Sam’s taste.

“I’m fine.” he replied coolly.

“Okay. Yeah, sure.  The amount of sweat pouring off you right now is totally the posterchild of ‘fine’.”

“It’s my problem and I’m dealing with it.”

“You don’t have to go through this alone, Sam.  You have your brother.”

“Yeah, he’s great to talk to about this stuff.”

“I’m here.” she tried.

“With all due respect, Jax.  Just because you know all about me, doesn’t mean I want to spill my heart out to you.”

“It’s stupid, but I keep forgetting - just because I know you guys, doesn’t mean you have any clue who the fuck I am. So yeah, ok.  I get it.  When it comes down to it, I’m a stranger to you.  But I understand, Sam, much more than you’d think.” Jax paused “So, now, I’m going to get back to scamming on your brother in peace.”

Jax turned back to the window, fingers plucking apart the venetian blinds, just as Dean freaking Winchester came in the door.   She froze like a deer in the headlights, eyes locked on his.

Dean paused, obviously having caught Jax in the middle of something.  He started “What are you….”

“I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM” she screeched, leaving a Jax-shaped cloud in her wake as the bathroom door SLAMMED behind her.

“That is one weird, dorky little lady.” Dean commented

 

Jax leaned over the tiny bathroom sink, eye to eye with her reflex chastising herself “Get yourself together, Creepazoid. You are edging on Becky levels of creepiness and that is just not acceptable.  You are not going to be that.  Now, get out there and act like a normal fucking human being.”

Jax flushed the toilet for show and ran the tap long enough to make the brothers think she had actually washed her hands before opening the door only to find Sam and Dean listening in.

 “Hi...” Jax said awkwardly.

“Do you always talk to yourself like that or are there like other voices in there talking back?” Dean asked.

“So you’re not even going to let me pretend I was actually peeing in there?”

“Nope.” Dean answered.

“Who’s Becky?” Sam asked.

“Just don’t leave her alone with your drink.” Jax warned.  

“Ok. So, we can’t go after Dad yet, apparently.  Now what?  We just wait for me to have another vision or something?” Sam asked.

Sam winced in pain as Dean slapped him in the chest with the back of his hand, exactly where he had just gotten his tattoo the previous day, an idea occurring to him. “Jax knows who wins the World Series for the next ten years. I say we 'Back to the Future 2' this mother, haul ass to Vegas and clean up.”

“Yes. World Series.  I definitely know about the sports things. Sometimes 3 is one of the numbers.” she deadpanned “Have you fucking looked at me?  Hello, Indoor Kid.” she paused “Hey, do we have any paper? Pens?” Jax asked.

“Yeah, why?”  Sam answered, digging through the bedside table drawer.

“I need to make a list.”

“Of what?”

“All the people you save.   I may not be a Grey’s Sports Almanac, but Dean’s right; we can still Biff Tannen this shit.” she said with a smile.

“Hell, yeah!” Dean exclaimed raising a hand for a high five, no one returned.  

* * *

Jax sat and scribbled furiously. Going through one motel sized notepad after another.

Hours passed.  

Dean went out for food.  

Then Sam went out for food.  

Sam leaned over Jax’s shoulder to see what she was writing.  

Dean watched Telenovelas til his eyes hurt.

Sam sat on his bed flipping through a book you wouldn’t find on a Summer Reading List.

Dean came in carrying a fast food dinner with him.   

“She still going?” he asked Sam who had his nose buried in a book.

“Yep.” he responded flipping a page.

Day slipped into night.  

Finally, Jax backed away from the motel wall where she had just tacked a last piece of paper.

“And I think that’s it. Gentlemen! I give you ‘The Road So-”Jax announced turning round to see both Sam and Dean passed out, fully clothed, Dean clutching a pillow to his chest, with his legs crossed at the ankles.. “far.” she finished, sighing.  

Jax went to Sam’s side and draped his blankets over him, pulling whatever demonic book he was reading from his limp hands and set it on the bedside table before turning off his lamp. He rolled over, sinking further into sweet unconsciousness.

Jax, went to repeat the same motion with Dean, but noticing he still had his boots on, paused  in consternation.  She reached down, slowly pulled a lace loose so as to not wake the sleeping hunter and just had her hand on the heel of his shoe when her eyes met the barrel of a rather crap inducing gun.  “Jesus!” Jax whisper yelled, jumping back, hands up.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, half awake.

“Put the fucking gun down. I was just taking your shoes off.”

“Why?” he asked putting the gun down.

“I was trying to do that cute thing where you tuck the person into bed and it was gonna be super fluffy and adorable and shit, but instead you just pulled a fucking _gun_ on me and took about 5 years off my life and Jesus fucking Christ, man.” she whispered furiously.

“Sorry.” he apologized slightly annoyed.

“Why are you sleeping with a gun under your pillow? Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“Why do you _think_ I’m sleeping with a gun under my pillow? Sam's having visions.  On top of the usual crap, there's a demon out for my family.  And no offense, I'm still not 100% sure on you.  But I’m _sorry_ , I pulled it on you, ok?” Dean shot back, his voice rising in defense.

“1. Quiet down, your brother is sleeping.  We both know that doesn’t happen too much anymore.”

Dean's eyes quickly flit to Sam sleeping in the bed next to his, concern softening his gaze. “I’m quiet. I’m quiet.”

"2. Don't try to turn around your pointing a gun on me onto me, okay?  You did that.  That's your trust issue not mine.  I'm allowed to be upset, just as much as you're allowed to...not trust me in the first place...I lost my train of thought, dammit."

"Okay. Sorry." He put his hands up in defense before wiping his hands down his face. “So did you finish?”

“Yeah” Jax said with a sigh gesturing to the wall behind her.

 

Dean rose from his bed and ambled up to the wall, which was almost completely covered in pieces of notepaper, crude maps, bits of latin, diagrams and sigils.

“Geez, nice psycho board, Gacy.  Could use a few more clowns.” Dean sassed.

“Shut up; it looks the same as your case walls.”

“Wanna take me through what all this means?”

“Well, in general, we have victims, locations, useful spells and sigils.” She said gesturing to the whole board. “So, over here; these are the people you meet this season that I can remember. Those over there are next season.  This side” she gestured to the left “are the people you do save.”   

Dean gestured to the much longer list which trailed down the wall to the floor “And I’m gonna guess these ones don’t get a pair of BK Ratchtechs as a consolation prize?”

“Yeah, they’re the ones you don’t save” Jax said, grimly.

Dean shook his head in dismay.

“But you could have if you knew” Jax offered “Think of them as room for improvement.  Hey, they’re not dead, yet.”

“Yeah and what about these poor suckers over here?”  Dean pointed to another list, with a skull and crossbones doodled on top of it.

“Doomed no matter what.” she said quickly.

“How do you know that, Jax?”

“Every monster has a first kill.”

“Not if we stop them first.”

“Gettin’ a little ‘Minority Report’ there, don’t you think?”

“If the couch jumping fits.” Dean responded. “We’ll strategize tomorrow.” Dean said.  “For now, you’ve earned yourself some sleep. You done good.”   Dean clapped her on the shoulder.

“Thanks.” Jax said, a bit of pride welling up.  

Dean headed back to bed.

“Oh God”  Jax stopped, dead in her tracks.  Face paled.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

“I just realized. You haven’t done ‘Bugs’ yet.”

* * *

The dark motel room glowed a slight orange from the outdoor streetlight partially blocked by the cheap blinds.  The only sound filling the room that of peaceful sleep - measured breaths and the occasional light snore.    
  
An incorporeal form rose from under the couch where Jax slept and stepped toward Jax's Wall-O-Victims, appearing to consider all the information before it very carefully.  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, total bullshit to be gone for almost a month and then just come back with this tiny chapter. 
> 
> Day jobs are dumb and deceptively tiring. 
> 
> Apologies to the people who really like this for making you wait so long. And thank you for coming back and reading.


	6. Chapter 6

The slight rustle of a paper bag and footsteps from outside the motel window woke Jax from a fitful night of sleep on a couch that had seen better days.  Probably better _day_ , come to think of it.  Probably better day in or around 1971. From across the room, still half asleep, she admired the mathematically perfect curve of Dean Winchester’s boxer briefed tuchus as he slept on his stomach clutching his pillow.

As the door opened, Jax’s eyes widened in alarm at the same time Dean’s hand slipped under his pillow for the same gun he held on Jax the night before.  Both Dean and Jax tensed for whatever would come through the door.

It was just Sam.  Carrying coffee (thank the Lord Jeebus) and what looked to be a bag of donuts (Sammy Bag of Donuts).

Jax sat up, bleary eyed, hair half curled from the cheap motel air conditioner which left the whole room more damp than cool.

 

“Morning, sunshine.” Sam said with a smirk in Jax’s direction.

“No.” she said in reply.

“What time is it?” Dean called from his bed.

“About five forty-five.”

“In the morning!?” Jax and Dean cried out in unison.

“Uh, yeah…” Sam drawled, a little weirded out as he set the breakfast goodies on a nearby table and doled out the caffeine to Jax and Dean.

“Mmmm…coffee, coffee, coffee….you wouldn’t happen to have like 5 pounds of sugar on you would you?”

Sam and Dean shot her a “seriously?” look.

“You know what? Nope this is fine.  This is good. Thank you.” She took a sip shrinking at the bitterness before putting on an exaggerated smile for the boys.

“So, what’s the plan? I can see you were hard at work last night.” Sam asked.

“Mmmm yes.  The Road So Far.”  Jax tried moniker again, pausing for effect.  Waiting for some possible recognition from them at the term, even though that would have been silly.  Like expecting them to have a special attachment to “Carry On My Wayward Son” without seeing it within the context of a play about their lives.  She continued  “The Wall of Winchester…The posters of possibly future dead people though aren’t we all just future dead people?”

“Jax. It’s not even 6.” Dean whined in her direction gesticulating for her to stop.

“Right. Ok.  Ok, so you’re gonna get a call from this guy from your past or your dad’s past, I think you helped him out with a poltergeist?”

“Because that’s not like every week for us.” Dean grumped.

“He works with airplanes.” Jax added.

“Oh! Um...Jerry...uh Jerry something.” Dean said snapping his fingers, trying to  
remember.

“Yeah, sure. Anyways he works with airplanes. Been on every other single CW show like everyone you inevitably meet. I think he’s an air traffic controller. He’s  
gonna tell you about a suspicious crash from about a year ag- United Britannia  
Flight 2485. There was some EVP on the blackbox recording.”

“So, a ghost brought down the plane?” Sam guessed.

“Hold up. Is there gonna be a ghost plane?” asked slightly incredulous Dean

“Not so much. It’s uh, actually a demon.” Jax replied.

Both Sam and Dean visibly tensed.

“Our guy?” Dean asked.

“Unfortunately, no.  Just kind of a no name mass of particle effects. You know. The usual bent on destruction and chaos.”

“If the plane already went down, then who are we trying to save?” Asked Sam.

“The survivors.  Mainly Chuck Lambert and Amanda Walker.  There might have been a couple others I can’t remember. But those are the only at risk ones, according to, you know, source material.”

At that very moment Dean’s phone rang.

“It’s six in the god damn morning!” Dean lamented.

“Oh! That might be him!” Jax jumped up a little.

“Jax, there’s no way it would be him.” Sam argued “Why would he be calling this ear-“

“It’s Jerry!”  Dean whisper yelled covering the receiver of the phone.

Jax’s eyes sparkled.  Sam wiped a hand down his face with a sigh.

“Yeah, I remember.  You had the poltergeist thing…you want to talk in person?

Dean covered the receiver.

“Jax.  Any point in going to see him?”

“I mean.  All that happens is you find sulfur and then later you almost get nabbed by Homeland Security”

“Yeah, let’s skip that… hey Jerry ummm this wouldn’t happen to be about United Britain 24…about a plane going down like a year ago, would it?”

Jax and Sam can just make out Jerry on the other side saying “Uh, yeah. How’d you know?”

“Ah.  Just a lucky guess.  As it happens we are actually already working that case and have a good bead on what did it….yeah…great…yeah…we’ll take care of it.  Thanks.” Dean shut his phone and rested his forehead on it for a moment.  He looked up at Jax.

“I’m a motherfucking psychic, bitches!” Jax exclaimed affecting a come-at-me-bro, pose.

“You’re not psychic.” Sam just had to rain on her parade.

“Don’t you poop on my poptarts.”

“Ok, so where to, Nostradamus?” Dean asked.

“Nazareth!” Jax said  
with confidence.

“Got a state to go with that town?” Dean rebutted.

“I do not!” Jax said with wavering confidence.

 

It turned out the Nazareth they needed to get to was 900 miles from their current location.  A 13 hour drive for those adhering to speed limits, laws...general physics.  Dean did it in 9, all the while blasting Zeppelin to drown out the refrain of “ohgodohgodohgodohgod” emanating from the backseat.

When they finally came to a rest stop and Sam, ever the gentleman, creaked open the back door.  He almost needed a bucket to collect the pile of goo that had once been Jax from the pavement.

“You okay?” he said, barely containing a smirk.

“I am...I am legs.” Jax babbled, left eye visibly twitching.

“I’ll grab you some water.”

 

The pump dinged with each dollar of gas Dean unloaded into the Impala.

Jax dragged herself up off the ground leaning on the Impala for support.

“You are a bad, bad man. Baaaad man.” she mumbled in Dean’s direction.

Dean tipped one side of his barely fashionable even for 2005 wrap around shades and winked at her.  

“Ugh” she mumbled as she crumpled to the ground once more.

 

Jax startled and let out an “Oof” as Sam launched a bottle of water into her lap.

“Sorry” he said cringing.

“I’m cool.” she said recoiling in slight pain. “Didn’t plan on kids, anyway.”

“So, what’s the plan, Velma?” Dean called out while twisting the gas cap back into place on Baby.

“Plan..yes, plan. The plan is the thing and the thing and the plan. Yes. That. We  
will...kill..no...exorcize...the demon.”

“Well.  Yes.  We figured that much out ourselves.  You remember anything a little  
more specific?”

She held up a finger, asking for them to wait while she chugged half the bottle of water.

“Yes.  Chuck Lambert.  He’s going to be at an airfield for little planes.  The you  
know.  The little ones.  Like “Day the Music Died” little ones.”

“Ok.  So we’re looking for a private airfield in Nazareth that has prop planes.”

“That’s where our guy will be…At some point. Soonish?”

  
  
  
  
  


**_Soonish_ **

 

_-”So get this.” Sam said flipping an errant bang from his face. “She’s the reverend’s daughter”_

_-”THE BEES! NOT THE BEES!” yelled Dean._

_-”Why are you hugging me?” Asked Dean recoiling from emotions and Jax’s death grip._

_“Because of your life!” Cried Jax._

“I hate when she does this.”

_-”Mom?!?” Sam yelled._

_-Will Sock ever tell Headband how he really feels?_

  


 

 

“What the hell is she doing back there?” Dean asked, chancing a glance over his shoulder at Jax who had nodded off in the back seat.

“She talks in her sleep. Fantastic. Didn’t think anything could be worse than your snoring.” Sam complained.

“I don’t snore! You snore.” Dean fired back.

“Cover all the mirrors! If you wear glasses you’re screwed.” Jax said groggily from the backseat.

“Think she’s dreaming about us?  About stuff that happens?” Dean asked.

“I grip _you_ tight and raise _you_ from perdition...from your pants perdition.” Jax mumbled.

 

Dean and Sam both went to say something, but words failed. They both shook their heads.

“Yeah, no.” Dean said.

“Definitely not.” Sam asserted.

“Although…” Dean allowed glancing back at Jax.

“No.” Sam shut him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short. I know. The next one will be longer and will actually go somewhere. Maybe. Don't quote me.
> 
> This is actually the first third of what should have been the whole chapter, but I 
> 
> 1) Wanted to actually get something out because it's been so long
> 
> and 
> 
> 2)Just had to do a cracky ending


	7. Chapter 7

Chuck Lambert lived in a nice house on a relatively quiet road in the middle of what Jax would think of as Nowheresville, USA.  But that was ok.  She was pretty much from Nowheresville, as well. The Impala was parked just down the road, close enough for them to be able to get a peek, but far enough away so they wouldn’t arouse suspicion.  Sam, of course, being the morning person of the bunch, had taken the first shift, Dean- the second and now Jax sat with third watch while Dean napped in his seat and Sam tinkered on his chunky Dell laptop.   

 Jax peered through a pair of largely unnecessary binoculars at the house just down the road.

 “1:35.  No activity.” Jax mumbled. “1:35 and 15 seconds. Still no activity. 1:35 and 20 seconds.  Nothing.”

 “Gee Jax, you bored?” Sam sassed not bothering to look away from his computer screen.

 “When do I get to stab something?”

 “You sound like Dean.”

 “Awww” Jax blushed, flattered.

 “That’s not a compliment.”

 “ _You’re_ not a compliment, Sam. _You’re_ not a compliment.” Jax grumbled.  “That’s not true, You’re a majestic merman.”

 Jax turned back to the window, letting the car fill with silence for a moment before she started tapping her thumb nervously against her leg, releasing a cacophony of TAP-TAP noises.

 “You really hate waiting, don’t you?”

 “I watched 8 years of your life over the course of 2 months.  I believe in a no-commercial binge culture.  This right here? This? Is a commercial.”

 “Jesus, how many hours of tv is that?”

 “That’s not important….a little under 200. Don’t judge me.”

 Sam tapped away on his laptop.

 “Can I ask you a question?  Can I ask you a series of questions?  A series of deeply probing questions?” Jax asked.

 “Fine.” he sighed, running a hand down his face.

 “How do you have internet right now?  Is it your hair? Do you have magic wiffy hair?”

 Sam unplugged an adapter from the side of his laptop and held it up.

 “Mobile hotspot.”

 “How come every woman you meet wears the same lip gloss and frosted eye shadow?”

 “Jesus, I don’t know. It’s 2005.”

 “How come you guys are in such good shape, but eat like shit and sit in a car all day?”

 “Just, good metabolism, I guess.”

 “What did Dean do to Penny Markle?!”

 “Who? - the girl from sixth grade?”

 “You missed a big interview to come with Dean.”

 “There a question in there?” asked Sam.

 “Do you regret it?” asked Jax.

 Sam turned back to his computer.

 “You help us find Dad. I go back to school.  I get another interview.”

 “Sounds like a solid plan.” said Jax barely masking her dismay.

 “Now, you really do sound like Dean.”

 “You ever consider not going back?” Jax asked.

 “No.” Sam turned to meet Jax’s eyes. “ I can’t.  No. This can’t be my life. It just can’t.”

 Jax opened and closed her mouth a couple times, trying to think of anything she could possibly say.

 “What? Jax. What?” Sam snapped.

 “Sam. I...Ok.  You’re a good guy.  Maybe the best. And you deserve. So much. So many good things.” Jax sighed “But you’re also very smart.  So, you’ve probably figured out a few things yourself from what I’ve told you.”

 Sam turned back in his seat to face away from Jax. “Yeah. The show is about Dean and me.  Both of us.  And two monster hunters make for a better show than a monster hunter and his lawyer brother who just sits at Stanford all day studying.”

 “I don’t know, I might watch Monster Hunter Lawyer.  Would it be more like Night Court or SVU?”

 “So, I really don’t go back?” Despair began to rise in Sam’s voice as he looked back at her.

 “Things happen, Sammy. It’s not.  It’s not _all_ bad.” she tried.

 “Don’t call me Sammy.” 

 

The rest of the day was a total bust. Not a lick of movement on Chuck. The man didn’t even leave his house to grab the mail when it was delivered.

 

* * *

 

Dean had barely finished pulling into the motel parking spot, when Sam stormed from the car.

“I’m getting my own room, tonight.” he called over his shoulder.

“What? No.”  Dean caught up to Sam, blocking him with a hand to his chest.

“Dean.  We spent all day in the car together.  Just give me one goddamn night to myself.” Sam pushed past Dean.

“Dean, leave him alone.” Jax said pulling her and Dean’s packs from the trunk.  “Come on.  Come get us a room.” Jax handed Dean his bag and led him toward the office. “He’s a big boy.  He can have his own room for a night.”

“Jax, what the hell is going on?  Did you say something to him?”

“I just...I just confirmed something he'd already figured out ok?  And it’s shitty news so just give your brother some space. “

“Jax, what did you tell Sam?”

 Jax let her heavy bag slunk to the ground.  “He never goes back to Stanford.”

 “Dammit.” Dean said under his breath, his heart breaking for the 6’4” kid who was currently handing a motel clerk a stolen credit card.

 

That night, Jax got a break from bunking on the couch.  Sometime around 3am her body made good on the promise of sleep, forcing her to stop punishing herself about Sam and dragged her under into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

So far, Day 2 of the stakeout was very much like Day 1, in that, it was a total fucking bust.  Sam idly tapped away on his computer attempting to tune out the gentle murmur of Jax and Dean arguing about which celebrities they would bang in a blue sky world.

“How do you not fuck Idris Elba?!” Jax said, outraged.

“I don’t know who that _is_.” countered Dean.

“Well, who the fuck is hot in 2005? Sarah Michelle Gellar?  Has Megan Fox happened yet?”

“I don’t know. Anna Kournikova. Venus Williams...Serena Williams.” supplied Dean.

“What are we doing?” Sam interrupted.

“Playing marry, fuck, kill.  Dean’s gonna fuck Wimbledon, apparently.”

“No. What are we doing here?” he gestured for emphasis.

“Sam, we can’t wait at the airport because of homeland security.” Jax snapped her fingers in time with a memory erupting in her mind. “Homeland security! We skipped the FED suits!" she pointed sternly at Sam and Dean "We're getting suits after this.”

 “There’s a man in that house right over there who’s going to get possessed by a demon.  And we’re just what? Sitting here with our thumbs up our asses?” Sam said.

 “Let the record show my thumb is nowhere near my ass. I do not like that.” Jax joked.

 “Why can’t we warn the guy that something’s going to happen, or ,at least go talk to him?”

 “Because that’s not what happens.” asserted Jax.

 “Why not?” argued Sam.

 “Because it’s just not-Where are you going?!” Jax asked, alarmed as Sam whipped his car door open and began to trudge towards Chuck Lambert’s house.

 “Where’s he going?” Jax screeched at Dean.

 “When he’s right, he’s right.” Dean creaked open his door and followed Sammy with a shrug.

 “Oh god. Sammy’s going rogue. They’re both going rogue.” Jax rambled, untangling herself from the various stakeout accouterments splayed across the backseat, her left arm catching in the seat belt not once, but twice in her bid to wrestle herself from the car.  

 

 She followed them across the street with hurried footsteps, trying not to attract attention, but also trying to keep up.

 “Oh god.  What are we doing? What are we doing?” she chattered as she caught up to them at the door, Sam already mid-knock.

 

The shadow of a man grew larger through the frosted glass door and Chuck Lambert swung it open with a “What can I do for ya?”

Dean took the lead with “Hi, sir, my name’s James Hetfield. My brother -” 

 “Lars, hi nice to meet you”  Sam shook Chuck’s hand.

 “And my fiance-” Dean pulled Jax to his side and paused waiting for Jax to say her name.  

Waiting.

Waiting.

 “Gloria Estefan-owitz” she stammered out finally.

“My Fiance, Gloria.” He folded Jax’s head to his chest with one hand in what he thought would be a convincing display of intimacy, but on account of Jax being the most awkward person on the planet at the moment, looked like something more akin to a hostage situation.  

“We were driving by and couldn’t help notice your lovely house and the For Sale sign on your front lawn.” Dean continued.

“Oh, yeah that. My, uh, accountant thinks it’s best if I sell now before things get,  well, you don’t need to know.  There’s a number to call on the sign to set up an appointment with the realtor.”

 

Chuck went to close the door. Dean reached out a hand to stop him.

“Uh sir, we thought maybe we’d take a shot in the dark here.  Maybe try to get ahead of the other offers.”

Sam jumped in “You know how it is with real estate these days.  Gems like this get scooped up like that.”

“And Gloria here, she’s really taken with the place.” Dean finished.

“It’s got good bones.” Supplied Jax.

Jax could have sworn she heard crickets.

“...which are hard to come by.”  Dean recovered Jax’s slight fumble showcasing an artificial, toothy smile.

“No, you’re right.  You’re here, now.  Might as well get this over fast if it has to be done.” Chuck relented.

“Thank you, so much.  This is very kind of you. Just top notch.” Dean said.

“Come on in.” Chuck stepped away from the door, reluctantly letting them into the house.

“After you, Miss Estefanowitz.” Dean whispered in Jax’s ear, having to lightly push her through the open door as she had froze in the face of a situation for which she had not prepared.

 

“You’ll have to excuse the state of the place.  Started packing up and wasn’t exactly expecting company today.” Chuck ran a nervous hand through his thinning hair.  He had the stature of someone who would definitely be a lady killer to someone of a comparable age if he could get his apparent distress under wraps.

They entered into a living room with islands of boxes scattered here and there and a nice looking mantel at the near end.

“It looks fine. Hardly noticed.” Dean assured him before tripping over a box of books and colliding with a column of boxes. “I’m good.”

“So, yeah, this was the living room.  Kitchen’s through there.  Got a pair of bedrooms upstairs.  Would all of you be living here or?” asked Chuck Lambert.

“Just me and the old ball and chain.” Dean slung an arm around Jax’s shoulders.  It looked more like he was about to give her a noogie than the two were prone to makeout sessions.  

“Marriage is a horrific burden!” Jax said with an exaggerated smile.

“Haha. What a kidder, this one!” Dean shook Jax’s shoulder for emphasis.

“Well, there’s 3 bedrooms upstairs. Plenty of room for starting a family.” said Mr. Lambert.

“And we will be getting on that right away, right Honeybunny?” affirmed Dean.

“We’re virgins.” Jax said with a shit eating grin.

“Yep, the way god intended.”  Dean said with an exasperated breath.

“Right. Well, feel free to take a look around.”  Chuck gestured absently.

“Thank you, so much.”  Dean ushered Jax out of the room, into the kitchen.

 

Sam hung back, rocking on his heels. Chuck went to move a stack of books into a box.  

“Oh my god! There are stairs here?!” Chuck and Sam heard Jax scream from elsewhere in the house.

“She’s excitable.” Sam explained.

“Right.” Chuck replied, not so sure.

 

A series of framed pictures on the mantel caught Sam’s eye.

“So, are you in school or?” Chuck asked.

“Yeah.  Stanford.  Pre-law.”

“Stanford? Wow. Smart.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

 “Shouldn’t you be there, right now?”

 “Brief sabbatical.” Sam explained.

 “Is this uh, is this you?” Sam gestured to a black and white photo of a pilot loosely resembling Chuck Lambert next to a commercial plane from what must have been the early 80s. “Do you fly?”

 “Used to.  Not anymore. Well...One of my friends is trying to get me back up there. Tomorrow, actually. But I don’t know. I don’t…” He took the frame from Sam’s hands, considering his younger self.  “That part of my life’s over.” Chuck shoved the frame in a nearby box.

 

* * *

 

Upstairs, Jax and Dean walked down the narrow hallway, casually peaking in the rooms leading off it.

“Gloria Estefanowitz?” Dean admonished.

“I’ve never done this before, ok?” Jax explained.

"Good bones?"

"Ok. That's a real thing.  It's not my fault you don't watch House Hunters." she gasped, suddenly delighted "Oh my god. House Hunters." she laughed, gesturing to Dean.  "Get it? Cause, like...right now?"

 “Could you at least try to act like a human?”

 “Ummm I’m not the one acting abnormally pushy like a drifter in a fucking horror movie trying to get into somebody’s house, ok?”

 “Well, I _am_ a drifter and my life _is_ a horror movie, so...” Dean explained.

 Jax cocked her head to the side thinking on that a moment. “Oh yeah.  Whoops.”

 “And what do you mean you’ve never done this before?  You can’t tell me you’ve never gone to a bar with your friends and given some guy a fake name.  Pretended to be someone else.”

 “Maybe I would If I actually had any. Friends.”

 Dean paused and turned to Jax.

 “Eh?  Well, don’t worry about it.  I don't either.”  He patted her on the shoulder twice like they’d just lost their T-Ball game. Whelp, slugger.  You’ll get em next time.

 Dean creaked open a door and disappeared into a side room.

 

After a moment, Jax followed him into what at one time must have been the bedroom of Chuck Lambert’s daughter, but now, much like the rest of the house held mostly boxes except for a twin bed shoved into a corner and some remnants from a 70's bedroom set.

 “So, what do we do now? Do we have actually have a plan for this situation you guys have suddenly thrust us into?” Jax asked.

 “We’re giving Sam time.” explained Dean.

 “For what?”

 Dean laid down on the bed, hooking his ankles together and putting his hands behind his head.

 “Time to do his puppy dog eye routine.  Get the old guy to open up.  Get him on our side before we drop the bomb.  Then maybe, just maybe he doesn’t kick us out.  Maybe he helps us catch a demon.”

 “Ah. Yes.  Sammy puppy eyes.  Fool proof.”  Jax ran a hand along a bureau, rubbing the dust off her fingers.  “And what are we supposed to have been doing all this time up here?  Doesn’t exactly take all that long to check out a few bedrooms.”

 Dean cocked an eyebrow and flashed her a mischievous grin.

 “Rule #1 of surviving.  Don’t sleep with a Winchester.” Jax asserted.

 “I’m not saying we actually have to fool around.  Just, it’s a good cover.”

 “Speaking as the one in the cross-hairs in the event we ever did actually fuck…”

 “Whoa, ok” Dean threw up his hands at her bluntness.

 Jax continued “I’d rather err on the side of caution and not even pretend.”

 “Was that why you were making things so difficult downstairs?”

 “Maybe. A little. Because fuck you for forcing me into a fake-fiancés trope.”

 “Well, then” Dean popped up off the bed “Next time I won’t fake propose to you.  Next time you can just be our cat lady spinster cousin.” He shouldered past her to the door.

 If someone had ever told Jax there would come a time she would be trying to sabotage a fake-fiancés situation with Dean Winchester, she would have slapped them across their stupid lying stupid face. Right across it.  It would have been pure blasphemy.  Fake-fiancés was one of her favorite tropes. Pretend feelings turning into real love.  Dammit, she ate that shit right up. But here she was.  Explaining to, arguably, the most beautiful man in the world that they could never go to the pretend bonezone.  Stupid monsters.

* * *

 

“So, why haven’t you flown in a while, if you don’t mind me asking? Sick of the food?” Sam asked.

Chuck smiled a little. “No.  I mean always avoided the food, don’t get me wrong, but...um no. It’s um...I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but do you remember hearing about a crashed airplane? About a year ago?”

“Not the United Britannia?”

“Yeah, that was…”

 The phone rang, cutting him off.  Whatever made Chuck want to confide in Sam quickly vanished with the intrusion.

 “I better go get that.” he excused himself to the kitchen.

 Sam continued to examine the photographs.  Dean and Jax’s presence downstairs was heralded by her coming down the stairs like a ton of bricks.  Sam made a mental note to leave her out of stealth situations.

 “So, you crack him yet?” Dean asked.

 “Say ‘crack’ again.” Jax said quietly.  Dean ignored her.

 “Almost got somewhere, but then he had to take a call.” Sam gestured frustratedly toward the kitchen.

 Dean’s face screwed up in disgust. “Oh dude, did you rip one?”

 “What? No.” Sam defended.

 “Give a guy a warning at least.  Geez.”

 “Dean I didn’t fart. I wouldn’t lie about that.”contended Sam.

 They turned to Jax who had her shirt up around her nose in a pre-emptive maneuver.  

 “What? Don’t look at me.  That’s not what my farts smell like.” she explained.

 “Good to know.” Sam replied with screwed up eyebrows.

 Dean picked up a book and started waving it around to dissipate the smell before the owner of the house returned.

 “Ugh, smells like rotten eggs.” Dean complained.

 

 Jax’s face fell with realization.

 “Dude don’t do that with his books. That looks like a first edition.” Sam admonished.

 “Guysss….” she said trying to get their attention.

 “Sorry...” Dean flipped over the book to read the title as Chuck Lambert re-entered the room. “Count of Monte Cristo.”  he finished just in time to make the meatsuit that had been Chuck Lambert flinch.

 “Demon!” Jax yelled.

 

Sam and Dean looked up in confusion just as Chuck Lambert, or rather whoever was currently riding shotgun inside him, sent them all flying against opposite walls with a flick of his wrist.  

 “I don’t suppose anyone grabbed some holy water before going rogue did they?” Jax managed to squeak out.

 The demon turned its attention towards Jax.

 “You know I was just gonna hop into this smelly old meatsuit tomorrow. Get the job done lickety split.  But I see you three come around, asking questions.  Can’t let you get in the way of my art.”

 Sam wrenches a wrist away from the wall. He starts to fish in his jacket, for what Jax realizes, must be John’s journal.

The demon continued his tin hat rant: “The United Britannia was supposed to be my masterpiece.  But no.  These people - they survived!  They ruined it! Beautiful destruction. It’s not finished.  Not finished til they’re dead. Til they’re all dead!”  

The demon turned to address the whole room, just as Sam manages to get the journal untangled from his jacket and flipped to the right page.

Thinking quickly, Jax pipes up. “Oh my god. Shut the fuck up, man.  No wonder you don’t have any real lines in the episode.  Your dialogue fucking sucks.  Boring nonsensical,boilerplate villain bullshit.”

 “Well, if I’m boring you-”

 The demon made a fist in the air and twisted it as if he were crushing an organ.

 All three screamed in agony. The journal fell from Sam’s hand, skittering across the floor and into the demon’s grasp.  Jax’s plan at distraction most decidedly backfired.

 “Jax, you’re not allowed to talk to the monsters anymore.” Dean groaned.

 

 “Well, well, well. What is this?” the demon muttered. “A hunter’s journal.  An instruction booklet for killing things like, well, me. Geez, this sure would be convenient for you to have right about now, huh?”  he flipped through the book, tantalizingly close to Dean.  

 He flipped to the front of the journal reading an address off a piece of mail tucked into the front pocket.  

 “John Winchester. Oh my goodness.  You’re John’s boys.” It realized, “Dean.” It pointed for emphasis, "And Sam. Oh, we know all about John and his little mission.  Your poor dead mommy.  Barbecued on the ceiling. Your father’s bloody mission of vengeance.  Tell me boys.  I know it was a long time ago.  But can you still smell it.  Your poor dead mama on the ceiling.  Sizzling like bacon?”   

 Sam and Dean seethed.

 “Ok.  You’re done, now.” Jax called it off.

 “Oh, really? I’m done?  How am I done? You don’t have your precious little book, Hunter.” The demon waved it, taunting. 

“I'm not a hunter.  I'm a fangirl.   _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_ ” Jax started reciting from memory.  

 

Rage flashed in the demon’s eyes as he made a fist in the air like Darth Vader using doing a force choke.  Jax clawed at her throat, gasping for air.  Distracted, the demon lifted its hold on Dean and Sam, dropping them from where they had been pinned to the wall. Dean grabbed a heavy wrought iron floor lamp and bashed the demon across the back of the head.  The demon barely even flinched.

Dean had just enough time to let out a nervous laugh and shrug before the demon whipped him across the room into the mirror shattering it into a million pieces and knocking Dean unconscious.

“ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_ ”  said Sam from across the room, repeating what little of the incantation Jax had managed to spit out before she was interrupted, just enough to get the demon’s attention away from Jax.  Sam got slammed back against the wall.

 Jax coughed and gasped for air as the creature loosened its grip.  She weakly continued the spell from where she and Sam had left off. “ _omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,”_  The demon turned its attention back to her, releasing Sam once more.

 Sam caught his breath and repeated what Jax said “ _omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii”_

 The demon hit Sam, again.

 Jax picked up the thread.  “ _omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte”_ before getting thrown into some boxes, herself.  A sharp hiss issued from her lips as she lifted herself from the ground and picked right up from where she had left off.

 Jax and Sam round-robined the exorcism, alternately bearing the brunt of the demon’s punishment and taking up the incantation. Jax adding more each time, and Sam repeating what she had said. By the time Jax got to the last line, the demon had gone full on ballistic - wind whipping around the room. Scary inhuman noises. Offers for timeshares inClearwater, Florida. Your usual demonic hissy fit.

 “ _Benedictus deus. Gloria patri._ ” Jax managed to groan out finally.

 Chuck Lambert collapsed as the demon exploded out of his mouth in a shrieking column of black smoke.  It gathered along the ceiling for a moment before making up its mind, darting out a window and back to hell.  

 

Sam stumbled to his feet to where Jax barely held herself up from the floor and gently shook her shoulder.

 “You ok?”

 “I’m fine-ish.” she rasped rubbing her throat. She nodded toward Dean, “Check him.”

 Sam hobbled over to Dean who still lay unconscious.

 “Dean. Dean! Come on, man. Wake up.”

 Dean groaned, holding his head.  He woke groggily.  “Mmm” he groaned “next time I’m wearing a helmet.”

 “Are you concussed?” asked Jax.

 “I don’t know. We’ll have to find someone to keep me up all night just in case.” Dean said with a crooked smile, grabbing onto Sam’s shoulder as his brother helped him onto his feet.

 “He’s fine.” Sam announced.

 “Wha-what’s going on?" asked a waking Chuck Lambert, rubbing his head.

 “Aw, shit.” Jax said under her breath.

 “Sir? Are you ok?  You fainted.” Sam said, thinking fast.

 

 Chuck’s eyes drifted over the scene.  His belongings thrown everywhere, all but destroyed.  Mirror over the mantle- completely shattered.  Gigantic cracks in the drywall.

“What in the blue blazing hell happened in here?” asked Chuck, surveying the completely destroyed living room.

“You have a massive squirrel problem.” Jax provided, glancing at Dean.

“Should get that checked out.” Dean concluded, patting Chuck Lambert on the shoulder before limping out the door, one arm around Jax’s shoulders, one on his lower back.  

Sam gave a nervous shrug and a laugh: “Sorry” before quickly following.

* * *

Dean ambled back to the corner booth at the dive bar, carrying 3 beers by their necks.

“Dude, that was genius back there with the repeating what I said, keeping him distracted.” Jax gushed to Sam seated next to her.

“Yeah, well, you were the one who remembered all the Latin to begin with.” Sam returned the compliment.

Dean landed in the booth next to Sam. “Cheers, nerds.” he said holding his beer out to tap against Sam and Jax’s.

“We exorcised a demon. WE exorcised a demon, you guys. I got force choked.  And we exorcised a demon.” said Jax.

“You’re a little too happy about the choking thing.” Sam admonished.

“Kinky.” Dean said out the side of his mouth.

“I am getting beyond drunk.” Jax happily tipped the bottle back into her mouth.

 Sam laughed.  “You’re gonna be fun tomorrow.”

 “I am always fun. I am fun always. All the time. I am the fun.” said Jax.

 “Are you drunk already?” asked Dean.

 “I have no tolerance! And this is going to go from fun to terrible so fast!” Jax yelled way too enthusiastically.

 “Fantastic” Dean nodded before taking a swig of his own drink.

 

Two beers later, the predicted effect had taken hold on Jax. The lights were definitely dimmed, but she was still mostly home. Sam and Dean, having the tolerances of a normal adult man and that of, well, Dean Winchester, were still very much on the side of sobriety.

 “So, Jax” said Sam.

 “So, me.” replied Jax.

 “You know basically everything about us.”

 “I know the general size of your dicks.” Jax sang putting her hands up to her face like a megaphone, “Oop” Jax quickly covered her mouth with her hands, a manic joy in her eyes.

 Dean whipped his head back and did a big old unicorn laugh.

 

 “Right.” Sam said a little blush on his face.  “You know a lot about us.  We know next to nothing about you.”

 “I used to masturbate to Weekend Update.” Jax announced proudly.

 Dean was caught mid-drink, trying not to do a full spit take, the corners of his mouth turned up into a barely holding it together smile.

 Jax just stared him down with a half-amused smile.

 “You ok?” she said ribbing him.

 Dean somehow managed to finish swallowing, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 “I’m good.” he said, all eye crinkles.

 

 “Jax. Really.” Sam asserted completely straight faced.

 “Really?  Is it my backstory time? Time for Jax’s backstory?”

“If that’s how you want to put it, sure.” said Sam.

“Ok. Fine. Highlights, I guess - work a shitty dead end office job that will find any reason not to promote someone. Owe a buttload in student loans for a useless liberal arts education. And that is why at the age of 26 I am sleeping on a pull-out couch in my aunt’s living room.  See: living situation and general personality for why I don’t have a boyfriend.  See: the fact that everyone I went to school with lives across the country actually pursuing their dreams for the reason I don’t have any friends.”

“What about family?” asked Dean.

“Family: like I said I live with my aunt, even though she desperately wishes I could find some other couch to crash on. I’m an only child. My parents died in a car crash when I was a kid and even before that they, sad to say, were not exactly the warmest people.”

 

Sam spoke first “Jax, I’m so sorry. That’s-”

“My shit. Yeah. But-” she said getting up from the table, “That is a jukebox.” she pointed at the machine in the corner,  “And I am putting on a song.  And it will be my song. For me.”  Jax flopped off towards jukebox.

“Jesus.  That was a surprise.” Dean started.

“What were you expecting: Unicorn wrangler?  Cotton candy childhood?” Sam argued.

“A little, yeah.” said Dean.

“Well, that answers the question what she sees in our show. Familiar territory for her - all we are is curse and tragedy.” said Sam.

“Come on. We’re not all curse and tragedy.” Dean argued.

“Dean-” Sam started.

 

Heart’s _Crazy on You_ came on over the dive bar's speakers.

“MY song!” Jax yelled from across the bar.

“Real mystery. Why does she like this song so much?” Dean asked.

“I mean it’s not a bad song.” said Sam.

Jax arrived back at the table and picked up her empty bottle: “Guys, this is not a new beer.  You are failing me.”

 

* * *

 

In the wee hours of the morning, Jax and Dean led the charge into their motel room.  Sam stumbled in behind them and went straight for what had been Jax's bed the previous night.  The bed furthest from the door. 

 

“Sam. This isn’t your room. You got one next door.” Jax grumbled at Sam.  He mumbled unintelligibly in response, already half passed out. “Get out of my bed.” she said lightly kicking his boots.  

The giant would not be awoken.  

 “Jax, come on.  You can sleep in my bed.” Dean said, waving her over, eyes already closed, shirt off.

  _When the hell did that happen?_ she thought.

 “No. It’s fine.  Floor looks comfy.” she grabbed a pillow from ~~Sam’s~~ _her_ bed (goddammit) and flopped it down on the floor at the foot of Dean’s bed. She grabbed her pajamas and headed into the bathroom.

 “Jax. You’re drunk. Come on.  Just sleep in the bed.” Dean called to her.

 “I’m not drunk.” she yelled through the bathroom door, “I stopped drinking hours ago like an idiot.” She emerged from the bathroom bedecked in her Ben & Jerry’s pj’s, “Now, I’m just miserable.”  she laid down on the floor in front of Dean’s bed.

 “More reason to just get up here.” Dean argued.

 “No. I’m fine. I’ll sleep down here even though it’s super demeaning and makes me feel like the family dog.”

 “Sam always did want one of those.”

 “I’m fine. Goodnight, Dean.”

 “Do you know how much hepatitis is in that rug?”

 “Trying to ignore it.”

 “Nice, warm, sort of soft bed. Just waiting for you. You've earned it.”

 “Dean, no offense but sharing a bed with you would be a terrible idea.”

 “I'm not gonna make a move.”

 “It doesn't matter. Two people? In a bed? That sets off about a million shipping buzzers. I become a love interest.”

 “You are NOT going to become a love interest.” Dean said with a groan.

 “Then after that; I'm dead. Sure the casualty rate would be higher for Sam, but I’m not taking chances.”

 “You’ve gotta stop with this doomed lover crap. It’s too early in the morning and you’re making me paranoid about my life. I'll take the floor. You take the bed.” he said hauling himself from the bed.

 “No, I'm fine. Dean, just get back into bed and go to sleep.” she argued.

 He laid down on the floor in front of Sam’s bed- head pointing toward her, feet away. “No. I like the floor. It’s even more comfortable than the bed.”

 “Now, this is just stupid. Neither of us are in the bed.” said Jax.

 “Not gettin’ off this floor without you.” Dean said, opening one eye and peaking up at Jax.

 

Jax wrestled with the possible implications of sleeping next to a Winchester and weighed it against her discomfort.  She agreed, it was probably a foolish thing to take temporary comfort in exchange for what could very well be eternal damnation.  But she was so damn tired. And the floor was so uncomfortable. And, oh god, what just touched her foot?

 

“Jax?” Dean demanded bringing her back to reality.

 “Fine. But, you need to put a shirt on, ok? Like, are you kidding me with that, man?” she said gesturing to Dean’s torso.

 “What?” Dean asked.

 “Like. Come on.” she said gathering herself from the floor and resettling in the bed.

 “Ha. You think I’m sexy.” he said with a smirk, pulling a t-shirt on.

 “Shut up.” she turned to sleep on her side, facing away from him.

 “You think I’m sexy and cute.” he slid into bed next to her.

 “I think you’re gonna get punched in the dick if you keep talking.” she pulled a pillow down in between them.

 Dean put his hands up in surrender and settled in for sleep.

* * *

 

The next morning...early afternoon, actually, Sam noticed when he looked at the clock reading 12:13 PM, he was the first one to wake up, which was nothing strange.  He was always the first to wake.

His head was pounding slightly in recognition of the alcohol he ingested the night before - still not strange.

He went to the bathroom.  He took a very long pee, again, in recognition of the alcohol - again not strange.  

Washed his hands. Splashed water on his face. (His toothbrush was over in his room, so that was a foregone option at the moment.) He went back into bedroom and headed for the door so he could go get dressed in his room. - None of this strange.  

What was strange, was what Sam saw on the way to the door. Although, not very strange, now that Sam actually thought about it, but a much stranger thing than he had expected to see not even five minutes after waking up.  

 What Sam saw was this -

 Dean lazily curled around Jax.  Their arms and legs intertwined.  Dean was spooning Jax.  Jax was being spooned by Dean.  

What Sam felt at that moment was not an overwhelming worry that this would be a conflict of interest when it came to finding their father or would lead to complications and further drama in the group.     What Sam felt in that moment were the sharp pangs of jealousy and longing. Not over Jax.  Lord no, not that.  Never that.  But jealousy and longing over the intimacy he perceived.  The intimacy he had once had in his life and as far as he could see, would never have again. 

 

* * *

By day, the massive airplane hangar bustled with activity- myriad sounds of pneumatic tools and welding echoing through the warehouse.

By night, shadows of the giant machinery loomed silent and foreboding. One light coming from a small office in the back corner cast a dull glow into the otherwise dark space.

“Hey, Jerry I’m gonna head out.” said Rick, leaning into Jerry’s office.

Jerry’s official job title was “air traffic controller”, but he found himself mostly overseeing the mechanics at the airport and making sure inspections got done on time and in the correct way. Rick was one of Jerry’s mechanics.  

 

“You get that CFM56 fixed yet?” asked Jerry.

“If I had, you would have been the first to know.” answered Rick.

“Fine.  Get out of here before I owe you overtime. Go home. Watch ‘Poltergeist’ or something.”

“Man, I love ‘Poltergeist’.” Rick said on his way out.

 

It was getting about that time for Jerry to head out, too.  He shut down his computer and threw on his jacket.  He was halfway out his door and about to shut off the light, when the corner of a cd underneath a pile of other junk on his desk caught his eye.  He went back and fished it out of the pile.  It was the blackbox recording from United Brittania, Flight 2045 - the flight he had tried to call John about, but about which he ended up talking to Dean.  It was a very strange conversation, too.  Dean said he and Sam were already on the case.  Which was really weird.  But, the anniversary of the crash had come and gone and he had even spoken to his friend, Chuck Lambert, earlier that day.   Chuck told Jerry he was back in the saddle, flying again. Seemed like everyone was moving past the crash.  Surviving.  Everyone survived. And if Dean said they had the case handled, maybe Jerry could let it go. He dumped the cd in his trashcan and shut the door to his office.

 

Jerry walked across the hangar floor, making for the exit.  He had this funny feeling in the pit of his stomach he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  Maybe it was still about flight 2045, but if he actually thought about it, it was more the feeling like he was being watched.  That’s when he noticed one of the shoplights still on.  The one by Rick’s station, next to the massive CFM56 turbofan engine.

“Idiot.” Jerry grumbled to himself as he made his way across the floor.

“Can’t even clean up his own tools.” he said gathering several wrenches and a pair of gloves left on the floor in front of the engine.  “Someone oughta tell him I’m not his mother.” he said slamming the tool case shut.

 

Just then, Jerry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.  

Someone was right behind him.  

He turned quickly.

Nothing.  No one.  He was fine.  Just tired.  Just his brain making things up.

That’s when he heard the jet engine directly behind him start and for a second saw someone out the corner of his eye.

“What the f-” were his last words before being sucked into the jet engine (which had sped up impossibly fast) and spat out on the other side, painting the "0 accidents in 93 days" sign in a red spray of gory human mush. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the almost 6 month (UGH) delay with this chapter. It was really hard to break. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking around and coming back to this, if you have. 
> 
> I appreciate you!


	8. Chapter 8

Jax dreamt of twisted steel. She dreamt of icy water so cold it burnt like fire. She dreamt that she broke free of a sinking car. She struggled to the surface of the water.  Just as her fingertips touched the light something cold, hard and unrelenting snaked around her waist in a vice grip and pulled her down into the abyss.  Water filled her lungs, til it choked every last breath from her body. 

It was over. All was darkness. Then light. Starting from the band around her waist, from where she had been pulled from the depths.  Warmth and light, washing over her.  She dreamt that she was safe and that Dean Winchester loved her.

What woke her from this dream was a sudden shift in the atmosphere.  From what, at first, she couldn’t tell, but as her eyes focused on the empty bed across from her, she realized Sam must have woken up and went back to his room.  That’s when Jax remembered whose bed she was in, and sure enough, holding onto her like a life preserver, was Dean Winchester. 

One of the cruelest things one can ever dream of is love. While they are asleep it is all encompassing, but when they awake it is as if they have lost someone real, an emptiness pervades their very being and they find themselves bereft, feeling a real loss for a false thing.  To dream of everything and wake to nothing is one of the cruelest little deaths one can experience. And despite waking with the man she had longed for so very long coiled around her she knew, it was not real. It was not anything she could ever really have. 

She was just a person who happened to fall asleep next to Dean. If it wasn’t her, it would have been the pillow he hugged close to him.  If it weren’t the pillow, it would have just been another girl.  Even worse than this, than this being wrenched from a reality where she felt loved into one where she knew she could not be, was the fact that Jax knew even if there were a tiny infinitesimal chance that this reality she was plopped into was the reader-insert one she’d always dreamed of, again and again it came back to the fact that there was no way she would ever survive it.  And she refused to be the woman in the refrigerator. 

As quietly and carefully as she could, Jax slipped from Dean’s grasp and shuffled to the bathroom to begin her process of pretending it never happened. 

* * *

Three flashlight beams cut through the darkness of the antique shop, lighting on various valuable chachkies and a daunting amount of mirrors. 

 

“You ever think it’s weird, that like all antiques are brown?” Dean asked.

“Maybe people in the past just couldn’t decorate for shit.” Jax surveyed an antique portrait of a family.  “Or maybe with enough time everything just turns to shit.”  

“There’s the sunny explanation.” said Dean.   

 

Jax pulled a crime scene photo from her pocket, beckoning Sam and Dean to gather near her.

“That’s Mary Worthington.” she said pointing to a woman, dead on the ground.  “And that” she pointed to a big mirror positioned behind the body in the photo “is the mirror we are looking for.”

“Hey, it’s brown. What a surprise.” said Dean.

“So, gameplan. Find the mirror. Say the words. Smash the mirror. She’ll crawl out. Hold a mirror up to her.  She has a total meltdown at herself, then smash THAT mirror and she’s toast.”  Jax instructed affirmed.

“A simple twenty step process.” Dean deadpanned.

“Oh and Sam?” Jax added “Head’s up - your eyes are going to bleed.  So, just prepare for that.”

“Oh. OK.” said Sam making a what-the-fuck gesture with his arms.

 

They wandered the store for a moment searching for the mirror, before they heard the short  _ whoop _ of a police siren and saw blue and red lights bounce off the walls.  They quickly ducked down to avoid being seen.  

“Crap.” Dean said under his breath.

“Silent alarm. Sorry.” Jax whispered.

“I’ll handle it.” Dean said making for the door.

Jax grabbed his elbow, pulling him slightly down to where she was crouched.  “Don’t say you’re the shop owner’s son.”

“Why not?” Dean asked.

“Because he is Asian.  And you are a very white person.” she whispered urgently.

Dean opened his mouth a few times in protest before settling on “I’m not that…” Dean looked down to take in his outfit and with a silent nod to himself said “So...Assistant Manager, then?”

Jax gave him a thumb’s up. 

 

Dean left to deal with the fuzz as Jax and Sam ducked down and stayed out of view.

 

The police lights receded from the building as the cruiser pulled away.  Dean slipped back into the store.

“We good?” Sam asked.

“A little tap dancing. But we’re good.” said Dean “Let’s find this thing.”

 

They searched for another ten minutes before they hit paydirt.

“Hey, I think I found it.” Sam called from the back of the store.

“That’s it, right?” Sam asked slipping the beam of his flashlight from the crime scene photo to the very mirror pictured therein. 

“Looksit.” said Jax.

“Ok.” Dean nodded, looking around the store quickly, his eyes landing on a set of antique golf clubs.   He handed one each to Sam and Jax. 

“Ok.” he said steeling himself.

 

“Sam, if you would do the honors?” Jax said readying her grip on the golf club.

“Right. Yeah. Ok.” Sam took a deep breath.  “Bloody Mary.”

 

Sam’s grip tightened on his club.

 

“Bloody Mary.”

 

He squared his shoulders.

 

“Here goes nothing” Dean whispered.

 

“Bloody Mary.” Sam finished, raising his arms to smash the mirror. 

 

But nothing happened.  They stared at the mirror for about five seconds.  Nothing.

“Uhhh...Jax?”  Sam asked.

“Huh.” Jax said with finality. 

Dean scratched the back of his neck. Silently ticking off all the instructions they were to follow. All the things they had to do. 

“Are we in the...right shop?” Sam asked.

“I mean...I thought we were. The shop’s in Toledo.  It looks exactly like this.” Jax said.

“Jax.” Sam’s face fell. He slapped Dean with the back of his hand to get him to pay attention.

“I could be wrong. I don’t think I’m wrong.” rambled Jax. 

 

“Jax.” Dean looked at her wide eyed.

“What?” Jax felt wetness on her cheek.  She reached her hand up to wipe it away. “What the? Ahhh…” she said seeing the blood on her fingertips. “What is? Owwww, this hurts.” She said clutching her hands over her eyes. “Guys, eye bleeding hurts.  Did you know this?”

 

“I know what you did.” Bloody Mary whispered creepily from the mirror. 

 

“Jax, move!”  Sam raised his club over her head. 

“What?”she managed to get out before Dean tackled her to the ground, just in time for Sam’s club to swing through the mirror behind her. 

Dean scrambled to his feet.

 

From the now empty mirror frame crawled the corporealized ghost of Mary Worthington. 

 

“Nope. Nope. Nope.” said Jax as the ghost made a beeline for her. Jax kicked away and 

scrambled backward along the floor. The ghost swiped at her foot grabbing hold of her ankle.

 

“The ghost has my sneaker!” Jax kicked out, making contact with the ghost’s head, swinging it to the side, causing a sickening crunch.   

“Ooo” Sam and Dean recoiled at the sight..

 

Bloody Mary snapped her head back around, righting it back to the correct position.  Jax scrambled to her feet as Dean swooped in with the cursed mirror pointed at the ghost. 

 

Bloody Mary Worthington, confronted with her own reflection, as predicted by Jax, accused herself of killing every victim on the list, thus far. 

Dean brought the mirror down and smashed it on the ground.

 

Dean huffed, catching his breath.

 

“Ghost has my sneaker?” he looked at her incredulously.

 

“It DID!” she argued.

* * *

 

A dog went crazy, barking in a neighboring yard as Zack Warren arrived home for the night to his St. Louis abode.  Jax, Sam and Dean crouched in the bushes nearby.

“Yeah, that’s Zack.” whispered Sam.

Jax quickly snapped a photo with her phone.

“Not so much.” Jax said showing the photo to Sam. Zack had silver eyes.

 

“Ok. We move quick. In and out.  No chance for it to get away. No chance for it to shift again. Jax you’re on the back door. Me and Sammy are in the front. On three.”  Dean counted off and they jumped to their positions. 

 

Dean and Sam jumped in the front door after the shifter and pulled him out of the house before Zach’s girlfriend even had a chance to realized he was there.  They pinned him down behind the bushes and took him out quickly just as he was beginning to shed his skin again.

 

“Mmlechh.” Dean said holding up a hand covered in shifter goo. 

 

* * *

Sam, Jax and Dean stood in the middle of an apple orchard next to a tree set ablaze.

 

“Ha. How bout them apples?” Dean attempted, the only one amused at his own joke. “What!” he grumbled as Jax and Sam just walked away.

 

* * *

 

Outside a church in Ankeny, Iowa, Jax pulled away from a hug with a slightly startled Lori Sorenson saying “See you at the next sorority… alumni...thing.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” said Lori.

 

As Jax walked away she could just hear Lori’s roommate, Taylor, ask “Who the hell was that?”

 

“Got it?” Sam whispered as Jax caught up to the brothers walking to the car.

 

“Yep.” she said, Lori’s cross dangling from her palm. 

 

Dean popped the trunk of the Impala, which was now weighted down with everything silver they could find in the church.  Jax tossed the bit of jewelry onto the pile. 

 

* * *

 

At a gas station in Rockford, Illinois, Dean stood in what must have been one of the last payphones in existence.  He put in a call to the Hibbing, Minnesota police department tipping them off just enough to make them investigate a certain family who lived off a rural route and had a penchant for abducting and hunting other humans.  

 

He traipsed back to the impala where Sam had just finished filling the tank.

“Hillbilly cannibals: taken care of.” Dean announced.

“What’d you say to get them to investigate?” Jax asked, hanging out of the back passenger seat door.

“Well, I started with the whole I -heard-screaming-thing, but that wasn’t getting me anywhere so I just told them that the place reeked like pot and I thought they might have a whole operation going. That got them interested.”

“Hope they bring back up.” Sam said.

“I think they’ll be fine.  Guy sounded excited as a virgin on prom night, like he was ready to gear up for a raid.” Dean assured him.

 

“Ok, that’s Benders checked off the list.  Up next, Asylum!  Y’all ready for a good ole fashioned salt and burn?” asked Jax.

“Music to my ears.” Dean said slipping into the driver’s seat and shutting the car door with a loud squeak.

“Be on the lookout for idiotic teens, ghost possession and asbestos.” Jax warned. 

* * *

 

Dean leaned under the hood of the Impala, tuning up Baby’s engine and giving her some loving care, ratcheting something or other.  Calibrating the pistons to the power converters.  Making sure the altimeter was in line with the fuel mages.  Jax had front row seats to the excitement from where she was perched on the green cooler, her elbows on her knees, her hands wrapped around her morning coffee to fight off the mid-fall chill.   Sam disappeared earlier for a run, so it was just her and Dean for now. 

 

Jax’s eyes trailed from the way Dean’s gray t-shirt pulled tight across his torso as he reached for a different wrench to the flexing of his biceps tensing under the fabric, to the way he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand to the way his eyes met hers as he caught her staring.

 

“Are you gonna keep staring or would you actually like to learn something?” he asked.

“But I’m so good at staring.” she said.

 

“Come here.” Dean waved her over to Baby. She rose from the cooler with a slight grunt of effort. 

“So, what do you know about cars?” he asked her.

“If you put gas in, it go vroom. If you don’t change the oil, it gives the car the sad.”

 

Dean shook his head with a smile.

“Ok, so this is the engine.” Dean started.

“That’s a valve cover.” Jax interrupted, pointing. “Inside are all the parts that are in the head.   That’s an intake manifold.  On top of it is the carburetor.”

Dean looked at Jax, a slight smile curving his lip.  “So, she does know.”

“Yeah, don’t be such a gatekeeper about it.” Jax said with a teasing smile. “What are you fixing?” 

 

“I noticed a rattle about 100 miles back…” Dean continued. He explained to her how the rattle could be a few different things and how to go about fixing it in each circumstance, finally finding the actual culprit in the process. 

 

“Can you pass me that box wrench?” Dean asked.  Jax passed the tool in question to Dean, their fingers briefly touching in the hand off. He thought for a second weighing the wrench in his hand and passed it back to Jax.

“Not the right one?” Jax asked.

“Want to put the valve cover back on?” he asked.

“You’re letting me touch Baby?” Jax asked incredulous a wide smile peeling across her face.

“Yeah, why not.  Just a few bolts. You can’t mess it up too bad.” Dean assured.

“Ha. Thank you for the vote of confidence.”  Jax said, dipping underneath the hood.

 

He sat back watching her work on Baby and thought that Jax didn’t look half bad leaning under that hood. Not half bad at all.

 

* * *

 

The bar was nicer than Jax had seen in her time since entering the Supernatural universe.  It was cleaner.  The crowd was much younger. All the patrons seemed to have all their teeth. The lighting was bluer. The clothes were trendier.  The music was louder. The drinks came in neon test tubes. She stood at a high top with Dean, wound tighter than a swiss army watch. 

 

“What are we doing here?  This place doesn’t really feel...Are you comfortable here?  I’m not really comfortable here.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” he said.

“Maybe I should just go back to the room.  Let you guys have fun. Blow off some steam.” Jax said trying to escape.

 

Dean grabbed a couple shots off a passing tray.

 

“Here” he handed her a shot “The night is young and so are we.” he clinked his tube against hers and knocked it back.

“Why do I feel like the oldest person here?” she grumbled. 

“We’re the same age.  If you’re old; I’m old.  And I’m not old. Now, drink.” Dean ordered.

 

Jax took the shot down in two big gulps, wincing at the burn down her throat. 

“Don’t let me keep you, though. Really.” she said.

“Why do you keep trying to get rid of me?” Dean had to yell in her ear over the volume in the room. 

“I just...you know. I know you.  I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to babysit to me. When you could be...” 

“When I could be what?” he said with a quirked eyebrow.

“For one  - getting the bartender’s number.  Two - getting the waitresses number. And Three - getting…”

“A boatload of VD?” he finished.

“Dude, we’ve spent every single moment for the past month together and you haven’t gotten any in that time and it must be incredibly frustrating.” she explained.

“You haven’t gotten any either.” he argued.

“Yeah, but that’s like the usual for me. I’m a sexual camel.” 

“A camel!” Dean repeated back to her.

“Yeah.”

“ Tell me, Sexual Camel, how long’s it been, since your last oasis?” Dean asked.

“I mean, I sing ‘Wonderwall’ a lot.” Jax replied.

Dean shot her a “really?” look.

“Oh, the...the camel metaphor.” she realized 

“Yeah.” said Dean.

“The oasis is sex. I get it. I’m picking up what you’re putting down.” she said.

 

“So…” Dean urged.

“I...fuck...when was my last oasis?” she said to herself. “It can’t be...fuck it’s been like two years..yeah, two years.”

“That’s a big desert.” Dean commented.

“Yeah, the Gobi.” Jax agreed.  

“You need to hydrate.”  Dean grabbed another set of shots from a passing tray. 

“Yeah, dis camel thirsty as fuuuckkk. And also, yes alcohol.”  Jax said knocking back her shot, more successfully than the first one.  

 

“Where’s Sam? Haven’t seen him for awhile.” she asked.

“Huh.” Dean searched the crowd, craning his neck up.

“He is over there...and hell must have frozen over because it looks like he’s talking to a girl.  Really cute one, too.  Go, Sammy.”  Dean saluted the air and downed his shot.

Jax craned her neck in the direction Dean had indicated. She could see Sam with a flirtatious smile plastered on his face and a well manicured hand laid possessively on his shoulder.

“Oh, yay. Good for him.” said Jax.

 

Then the crowds parted and Jax’s face fell with terror as she could see exactly to whom the hand belonged.

  
“Meg.” 


	9. Chapter 9

“Jax...Hey.” Dean asked, the look of complete terror on Jax’s face pinging every spidey sense in his body.  “What is it? Timmy fall down the well?” he said, trying to laugh it off.

 

Then, before, Jax could even think she was on her feet beating a path toward Sam and the demon in the Co-Ed flesh suit.  She lost Dean three steps into the dense crowd.  

 

“Sam.” Jax tried to say as urgently as she could without tipping off Meg.

“Hey, Jax. This is Meg.” Sam smiled, completely oblivious to the wolf in sheep’s clothing to his right. The poor schmuck. “She’s going to California.”

“That’s great.” Jax managed to say without seeming as pants shittingly terrified as she was. “Sam, we need to go.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Dean, he...uhhh… he’s got an attack of the shits like you wouldn’t believe.  We gotta go.”

“Ew. Jax. What the...I’m sure you and Dean can handle his attack on your own. You don’t need me.”

“Sam…” Jax pleaded.

 

Dean finally made his way to Jax.

 

“Jax, what the hell…?” Dean started.

“He seems fine.” Sam told her, turning back to Meg.

“Sam. If you want to go and take care of your friend, it’s okay.” Meg offered.

“No. It’s...she’ll be fine.” Sam said.

 

Jax struggled with how to get Sam away from Meg, then it came to her.

“Poughkeepsie.”  Jax blurted out.

“What?” Sam said.

“Funkytown.” she said waving her hands frantically.

 

Jax motioned with her eyes towards Meg. Realization dawned on Sam’s face.  Dean’s hand tightened on Jax’s shoulder.

 

“You know what? On second thought, Meg. I think I _should_ go.”  said Sam.

“Oh.” Meg said disappointed.

“But it’s been nice meeting you...” Sam rambled, nervous.

“Sammy...” Dean urged.

“and maybe we can meet up again sometime.” Sam finished.

“Oh, I’m sure we will.” Meg said with a sly smile.

 

Dean, Jax and Sam pushed through the crowd past the bar, just as they were about to get to the door Jax stopped dead in her tracks.  Sam crashed into her back, almost trampling her.

“Jax, we need to-”  he started.

 Wordlessly, she pointed toward one of the TVs over the bar, emblazoned with the news story: “Jet Engine Nightmare” accompanied by a picture of the, now late, air traffic controller Jerry Panowski.

 

* * *

 

The Impala fishtailed out of the parking lot, tires screeching as they tried to put as much distance between themselves and the bar.

 

“Who the hell was that?” Sam twisted in his seat to face Jax.

 “Why the ‘Funkytown’ alarm?” Dean asked.

 “That was Meg. She’s a demon. You were supposed to meet her when you and Dean split up during ‘Scarecrow’.” Jax explained.

 “Scarecrow?” Dean thought for a moment. “That tree we burned?”

 “Yeah, but that didn’t happen and she still found you.” she gestured to Sam.

 “Good going, Sammy.  The first girl you score with in months and she douches with sulfur.” Dean said as he accelerated down the highway.

 

Sam shot him a bitchface.

 

“She’s one of the demons trying to bring back Lucifer.” Jax explained “She’s sort of Lucifer’s fave. Or she wants to be his fave.  Like kind of a Bellatrix Lestrange thing.  She works for Azazel.”

“And it just gets better.” Dean commented tossing up a hand.

“Why is she here?” Sam asked.

“She’s here for you. Her being here, it’s one of the first things in a series of things that leads to you saying yes.” she explained.

“Yes to what? A timeshare in Clearwater Springs?” Dean said growing impatient.

“Dean.” Sam said cutting off his brother. He looked Jax dead in the eye and nodded to her to go on.

 

She turned away at first, not wanting to be the one who had to, yet again, break it to the poor shlub that his life was a suckfest.  

 “Jax.” Sam pleaded.

She steeled herself and met his eyes.

“Lucifer needs to take a human vessel if he wants to walk the Earth” she explained, “You’re that vessel.  That’s what you say yes to.”

“Hold up.” Dean asserted. “Wait...no no no. He’s going to be...You’re going to be Lucifer’s vessel?!  Like Lucifer is going to be inside him? He’s going to wear you like an angelic condom?”

 

Sam raised his hands in frustration. “Dean, I don’t...we are learning about this at the same time. And I’m not. No. Why would I ever agree to that? I would never say yes…” Sam started, but he looked at Jax and he could see the truth written all over her face.

“I will never say yes.” Sam reaffirmed, his voice breaking.

“That’s right. Good.” Dean said with finality.  “Now, Jax any idea why Jerry’s dead?”

* * *

 

Back at the hotel room, Sam had pulled up the story on his computer.

 

“It says he was sucked into one of those giant jet turbines after hours.  They found the mess the next day.”

Sam flipped the computer around to Jax and Dean. A grisly photograph with what was left of Jerry painting the wall.

 

“Oh, geez. He got Fargo’d.” commented Dean.

Jax just put her hands over her mouth, in shock as the wheels started turning in her mind.

 

“No witnesses. Nobody around.  And get this - The engine was in the middle of being repaired.  It shouldn’t have even been hooked up to power or working.” Sam added.

“Our kind of weird.” Dean asked.

“Our kind of weird.” Sam replied.

“That’s not supposed to happen.” Jax said, beginning to pace the room.

“Jax?” Dean asked, worry lining his face.

“That’s.  That’s not supposed to happen.  That doesn’t happen.  Fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck. “ she whispered to herself, panic rising in her chest. “That guy...Jerry doesn’t die on the show.” Jax said, reeling.

“Well, he’s dead now.  He’s a fucking strawberry Coolatta now.” Dean said gesturing to the laptop.

“That’s not supposed to happen.” Jax pleaded, trying to convince herself more than anything.

“Jax, you have to admit, you’re not always right.  Remember Bloody Mary? You thought I was going to get attacked by her, but you did instead. Why do think that happened?”  Sam asked in measured tones.

“Oh fuck.” Jax said, realization dawning on her. “Because I already outed all of your secrets.  And she only attacks people with secrets. I forgot about that.”

“You _forgot_ about that? Jax, we’re playing by your rule book, here.  And you forgot about that?” Dean said getting to his feet, cornering her.   

“I can’t remember every little thing, okay? I wish I could, but I can’t. I’m not omnipotent. I’m trying my best.”

 “Your best got somebody killed who wasn’t supposed to die.” Dean said.

 

Jax gasped, realization dawning. “Oh no.”  She sat down at the table, pulling Sam’s computer close she typed feverishly, pulling up news articles and googling every name and place she could remember.

 “Jax, what are you checking?” asked Dean in a slightly accusatory tone.

 “Oh god, oh god, oh god.” said Jax, staring at the screen.

 “What?” asked Sam, readying himself for the proverbial other shoe drop.

 

She turned the screen toward them. Splashed across it was news articles from every single town they had visited.  In their wake; always some freak accident.  

 

In Fort Wayne, Indiana, a blonde teenage girl named Charlie fell on a pitchfork, headfirst. Her eyes were gouged out before it proceeded through her head.  In Ankeny, Iowa, Lori Sorenson was crushed when a massive crucifix fell off the church wall. And in Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin, Andrea Devins and her son, Lucas drowned in a flash flood that only hit their house.

 

“Jax, some of these people are from before we even met you. How do you know this is just because of what we changed?” Sam asked.

 “Because they’re not canon.” She was rambling, now and fast, pacing circles around the room.  “We changed it.  We changed it all and now it’s different. And things are happening.  Weird things are happening…Bad things. Worse than before. Oh god.  We changed everything. I changed everything.  It’s butterfly effect on acid. And oh my god.  Dean you swore.” she rounded on him.

 “Yeah, I swore. I swear. I’m a fucking adult, I swear.” explained Dean.

 “No, you do not.  You are on network TV, you do not swear without getting bleeped.” she pointed at him.

 “This isn’t a show!” yelled Dean.

 “No more swearing.” Jax continued. “Everybody, no more swearing. The curse words are killing people.”

 “Jax. How do we fix this?” Sam asked.

 “I don’t know if we can.” said Jax.

 

A knock came at the door, suddenly, startling the three of them.

 

Dean held a finger up to his mouth and crept to the peephole.  

 

There stood Meg, blown wide through the fish-eye effect of the lens.

 “Hey Sam, it’s Meg.” the demon’s voice called, muffled through the door “You got out in a hurry.  You didn’t even get my number.”

 “Can we exorcise her?” Sam whispered to Jax.

 “That would be a major deviation from the original narrative.” replied Jax.

 “Does that matter at this point?” asked Sam.

 “Butterfly effect.” pleaded Jax.

 “Salt. Doors and windows. Now.” Dean whispered, scrambling to his bag and fumbling for the salt inside.

 

Another KNOCK at the door. “Sam?” Meg called as fake syrupy sweet as her demon nature would permit.

“How did you find us...uh...me?” Sam called through the door as Dean tossed him the canteen of salt. He laid down a line of salt across the doorway.

 “Oh, a girl has her ways.” Meg flirted.

 “Oh yeah?” Sam replied tossing the canteen back to Dean so he could salt the main window and the one in the bathroom.

 

Meanwhile, Jax frantically searched the room for anything to write with.  She fished around in Sam’s backpack, her fingers finally landing on a pen.   

 “Why don’t you open the door?” Meg said with as much sugar as she could put in her voice.

 “Oh. I’m naked. Like...sooo….naked.  Putting on clothes, now.” Sam fumbled for an excuse.

 

Jax ran to where Sam was at the front door almost bowling him over.  She whispered to him through clenched teeth  “Lift me up.”

Sam clumsily grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her toward the ceiling.  She broke open the cheap bic pen and finger painted a Devil’s Trap on the ceiling.

 

“Oh you don’t have to do that on account of little old me.  In fact I think I’d prefer you without.” Meg said through the door.

 

Sam dropped Jax to her feet.  They scrambled to gather their things and ran to the bathroom where Dean already had the window hoisted open for them.

 

“Sam. I’m losing my patience, here. A girl can only do so much before she just looks desperate.” Meg said through the door an edge hastily creeping into her voice.

 

Sam helped hoist Jax through the little bathroom window.  

 

“Just a second.” he called to Meg, as he pulled himself through the window, Dean pulling him through the rest of the way by the back of his shirt.

 

The door to the motel room exploded open, sending wooden shrapnel everywhere.  Meg stepped through the debris into the room.

 

“Sam!” Meg called.

She went to take another step, but her body hit an invisible wall.  She was stuck to the spot.  She looked up to see Jax’s handiwork on the ceiling.  In the parking lot behind her, the Impala roared to life.

 “Sam!” Meg raged, her eyes flipping over black as a shark’s.  

 

Jax waved to her from the window of the car, her hand covered in blue ink.

 

“Byeeeeeeee.” she said quietly.  She could see Meg struggle from her spot on the motel carpet as they peeled away.

 

* * *

 

 

After putting a few miles between themselves and Meg they pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the car, some behemoth of a bridge looming over them in the night sky.

 

Sam turned to Dean “We need to find Dad and we need to find him now.”

 “It’s still too early.” Jax argued.

 

“It’s NOT….” Sam started to explode before checking his anger “it’s not too early. We’ve screwed up the rest of the timeline.  It’s not too early and we need him, now, before it’s too late.  Jax. I don’t know what your problem is with our dad. You know I have issues with him, too.  But we need to find him.  He’s our Dad.” Sam explained.

 “Family don’t end with blood and it don’t necessarily start there.” Jax muttered under her breath.

 “JAX.” Sam grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

 

“Whoa. Ok.” Dean interrupted jumped between them, putting a hand to Sam’s chest to calm him. “Just stop. Both of you. Cool down.” Dean said pressing down on her shoulders to seat her in the open door of the back seat. “You said you would tell us where our dad was when the time came.  Well, time’s come. Whether we like it or not.”

 

Jax nodded, relenting. “If we’re going to meet up with John, we’re not going in empty handed.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gigantic delay. I have zero excuses. 
> 
> Credit to Scott Aukerman for the phrase "Attack of the shits."


	10. Chapter 10

 It was only early November, but already there was a foot of snow up in the canyons outside Manning, Colorado.  The old hunting cabin of Daniel Elkins was lit up blue in the moonlight bouncing off the surrounding snow drifts, but inside there were no lights on.  No one home.

 

Dean picked the lock while Sam and Jax stood rubbing their hands together, trying to keep warm in the unseasonably advanced chill. After about fifteen seconds of fiddling, they were in.

 

Lighting up their flashlights, it became apparent that Mr. Elkins only held a tenuous grasp on his sanity.  The place screamed early unabomber chic. The walls were plastered with yellowing newspaper articles and crime scene photos.  There was no single place where Elkins’ obsession was held.  It filled and infected the whole building.  The whole place a tomb for his chosen profession.

 

“Looks like the maid didn’t come today.”  Dean commented.

 

They creaked their way through the old shack of a house.  Sam and Dean had flashlights balanced next to their guns, classic cop style, while Jax went through with a giant maglite as her only defense.  

“Does anyone else think it’s weird I don’t have a weapon? I think I’d feel a lot safer if I had a weapon.”

 Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out a 10 inch bowie knife, handing it to Jax handle first.

She looked from the knife back up to Dean. “How about a gun?”

“Have you ever even touched a gun?” he said taking the knife back.

“I got the high score on Silentscope once...on easy mode.”

Dean extended the knife back toward Jax, with a little shake meaning “take it”.  She took it and at a loss of anywhere else to put it, slipped it into her boot.

 

“It’s a boot knife, now. A knife in my boot.” she sang.

“Yeah, a knife in a boot that I’ve seen you wrestle with for twenty minutes every night trying to pry off your foot.”  Dean said, blinking rapidly for emphasis.

 “...aaaaand weapons are only useful if you can get to them.” Jax screwed her eyes closed, cringing in the face of her own mistake.

 “Yep.” Dean said simply walking away.

 “Shit.”  Jax muttered to herself.

  
 They searched for a safe, a box, a mystical portal.  Any place where you’d put an important magical artifact.

 Jax wandered off to the back of the house where she came across a room which was probably meant to be an office of sorts.

“Guys!” she called. Sam and Dean entered the room behind her. “I think it’s in here somewhere.  There’s supposed to be a safe.”

 

Dean swept the room with his flashlight.

“There’s nothing in here.”

“Floor safe or wall safe?” Sam asked eyeing the wood paneling.  

“I don’t remember.” Jax said.

 

Sam went over to the wall and balancing the flashlight in the crook of his elbow felt around the just slightly too wide edge of one of the wall panels. It swung to the side on creaky hinges, revealing a wall safe.

“Yahtzee!”  Dean said patting his brother’s shoulder as he sized up the small vault embedded in the wall.

He turned the dial, trying to feel for when the tumblers would drop into place.

“You know what you’re doing, right?” Jax asked him.

“Honey, never doubt that I have the magic touch.” Dean contended. “Ha ha!” Dean finished a cocky laugh trying the handle with a shit eating smirk.

Nothing.

He jiggled the handle up and down a couple times. “Sonofabitch” he struggled just trying to force the door open, now.

Sam rolled his eyes so hard it could be seen from space.

“Dean, why I don’t I try-” Sam started before Dean cut him off with an “Eh eh eh” as he leaned his head against the safe and spun the dial furiously. Sam raised his arms with a huff.

 

They were interrupted by the pumping of a shotgun behind them followed by “Hand’s up!”

The three of them turned slowly with their hands in the air to find Daniel Elkins, every bit the look of the local coot about him, leveling a shotgun in their direction.

 “Whoa!” said Dean.

 “What are you? Who are you?” demanded Elkins.

 “Ok, Daniel. Mr. Elkins. We’re hunters, like you. I’m Sam Winchester. He’s Dean Winchester.” Sam tried to mediate.

 “Winchester....You're John’s boys.” Elkins replied, not lowering his gun. “Who’s she?”

 “Family friend.” Jax supplied as Elkins eyed her suspiciously.

 “Fine. Family Friend, why you trying to rob me?.” Elkins waved with his gun toward the half-cracked safe.

 “We’re just borrowing something.” said Dean.

 “Usually asking is involved with borrowing.” Daniel shot back.

 “It’s The Colt. We need The Colt.” said Jax.

 “We’re after a demon.” explained Sam.

 “Just exorcise the bastard.” said Elkins.

 “The guy we’re after needs a more permanent end.” said Jax.

 “Did John find Yellow Eyes?” Elkins asked, finally lowering his gun.

 “No, but I know how to get him to come to us.” said Jax.

 Sam and Dean exchanged a look.  This was news to them.

 

“That’s suicide.” said Elkins.

 “Not if you give us that gun.” argued Jax.

 

Elkins chewed his lip, sizing her up. He went to the safe, spun the dial and swung the door open.  From inside the safe, Elkins slid a wooden box, not that much bigger than a cigar box.

 He opened it to reveal an antique pistol.  “Non timebo mala” engraved on the barrel. Latin for “I will fear no evil”.  Below the gun, was enough space for thirteen bullets, though only 6 remained.

 “There’s six bullets.” Elkins explained “Six demon killing bullets, made by Samuel Colt, himself.  Those are the only six bullets that will ever work with that gun, so you make sure if you’re taking a shot you aim well.  And you can’t just shoot ‘em in the kneecap or wing ‘em in the arm. It’s got to be a kill shot. Head or the heart, that’s where you aim. And I want it back after you’re done doing what you got to do with it.”

 “Absolutely. Thank you, sir.” Sam said as they edged along the wall to the door.

 

Just then the front door blew off its hinges splintering into a million pieces. Dean pulled Jax and Sam to the ground for cover. Three figures came crashing through the overhead skylights, raining shattered glass everywhere. Dean tried his best to shield both Sam and Jax from the falling glass.   The three, what Sam, Dean and Jax were coming to realize were people or a hell of a lot like people, landed on their feet, not even having to do a three point landing to absorb the shock.

Dean crawled to his feet, glass sliding off his shoulders. He reached a hand down to help Jax up and patted Sam reassuringly on the shoulder as he, too, rose.  They stood in the corner by the door attempting to make themselves as much like wallpaper as possible for the time being.  On instinct, Dean stood between Sam and Jax and the newcomers, creating what he could, of a protective barrier. 

The guys who just Mission Impossibled through the fucking ceiling looked a lot like run of the mill biker bar patrons.  Not like the weekend warrior insurance adjuster who takes his Harley out to cruise three weekends a year, but actual don’t-fuck-with-me bikers.  The type of people you wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of under normal circumstances, nevermind after having just witnessed them do some meta-human bullshit through a solid pane of glass.

The strangers circled Dean, Sam and Jax, sniffing the air ferally.

 “Hey. Wasn’t me. Smelt it dealt it, you know?” Dean quipped.

 One lunged at Dean who fought them off as much as he could.  Another grabbed Sam who also fought valiantly.  And the last one grabbed Jax as she kicked and screamed “No!” her voice low and sharp, full of rage coming from a place of survival and instinct stored deep within her lizard brain.

 The three vampires held them in place as they struggled.

 

A tall woman (Also, clearly of the biker persuasion.  This group had a running theme.) advanced into the room. She got half a step in the door before a knife flew across the room, lodging itself in the center of her chest. She pulled the knife from her chest and threw it to the ground, shaking her head back and forth  _tsking_ \- more annoyed than anything.

 “That was a new shirt.” she sighed.

 She stalked toward Elkins as he tried to get a bullet in the Colt.

 “You gonna shoot me Daniel?  That seems unwise.”  she sped to him, knocking the gun from his hand and threw him at the wall.

 She considered the three people her minions had caught. “Daniel, it’s so nice of you to lay out refreshments for us.” the lady said grabbing Dean’s hair roughly before moving on to slap Sam on the face playfully. She arrived at Jax and considered her with a disparaging ”This one, though, not exactly a light meal, now are we?”

 “Uh, size 12 is the national average, okay?” Jax defended herself with a raised finger before the vampire on her grabbed her tighter around the shoulders, effectively shutting her up.

 “What the hell are you?” asked Sam.

 “Besides grabby.” Dean said wrestling against the grip of the guy who held him in a vice grip.

 “Hunters don’t know a vampire when they see one?” asked lady vampire, amused.

 “Vampires don’t exist.” Dean asserted.

 “You must be a crap hunter.” she shot back.

 “He must be dinner.” said the vampire holding Dean, pulling his head to the side, exposing Dean’s neck.

 “I’ve always thought of myself as brunch.” said Dean.

 

“What do you want, Kate?” Elkins growled.

 “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have something else to do today?” the vampire named Kate, (apparently) stalked slowly toward where Elkins still lay, bloodied on the ground. “Do you really want to speed this along! Because spoiler alert!” she sped to him and held his face in a vice grip “You die.” She leaned in to speak directly into his ear, her sharp teeth so close to their eventual mark.  “So are you really that eager to get to the end of this little story?

 “So, what do I want?” she raised her voice throwing him back to the ground  “What I want, dear Daniel, is for you to suffer.”  She landed a sharp kick to Elkins’ ribs.  “And die.” She kicked him again and again emphasizing her words.  “For what you’ve done.  For what you continue to do.”

 “I save people from you bloodsuckers.” Elkins spat.

 That stopped Kate’s kicking.

 “You have waged a one man genocidal war against my people”  

 “Your people are not people.”

 “Oh, don’t be specist.  It’s unbecoming.”

 

In the course of Kate’s assault on Elkins, her three lackeys had loosened their grip on the brothers and Jax, their attention momentarily on more entertaining things.  With his vampire goon distracted, Dean reached down and grabbed a massive knife sized, shard of glass from the ground.

He wheeled around and swung the glass shard with all his might into the burly vampire’s neck.  The jagged glass lodged in the vamps throat making it about a quarter of the way through his well-muscled neck.  Blood spurted in Tarantinian amounts. The other two vampires lunged at Dean, subduing him to his knees. Sam jumped on one of their backs and was thrown across the room and knocked out for his efforts. Jax raced for the gun, but was beat to the punch by Kate, who cocked the pistol and leveled it at Jax’s head.  

“I’d rather not waste a meal, but your choice.” Kate warned Jax who had her hands raised in submission, backing away.

Vampire Extra Number One dislodged the glass shard from his throat and desperately tried to stem the flood of blood rushing from his undead neck with one hand, because he was ostensibly dying, but...still - gotta look cool. Gotta do staunch it with one hand.

Vampire Two held Dean’s head back by his hair, exposing his throat, while Vampire Three bared his teeth, readying himself to tuck into a Dean Winchester cheeseburger.  Dean just cringed and grit his teeth, readying himself for what he thought was his imminent demise.  Vampire Three was just about to make a meal of the man when -

“No!” Vampire Kate halted them, raising a hand  “We share him.  We make it slow.  We make it last.”

“You sure about that sweetie?” Dean shot back “I can last an awful long time. Sting ain’t got nothin on m-” Vampire Three knocked him out with one solid fist to the back of the head.

“No!” Jax yelled.

“Ugh. Be quiet.” Kate said before hitting Jax across the head with The Colt. The last thing she saw as her vision swam to black was Daniel Elkins being torn limb from limb.

 

* * *

 

Some time later, Jax wasn’t sure how long, her first thought as she came around was a huge resounding  _OUCH_.

“Mmm” She moaned in pain not even opening her eyes, unwilling to invite another sense to the suck party just yet.  “This sucks.”

“Jax you awake? You ok?” she heard Sam’s voice very close to her and decided to brave opening her eyes.  It was about as bad as she expected it to be, although she hadn't counted on the smell. That was a fun surprise. She found herself in an old barn which looked to be retrofitted to hold any number of squatters with hammocks strung here and there and empty liquor bottles galore.

 Oh yeah and then there were the dead bodies. There were quite a few of those.

 AND she was tied to a wooden support beam next to Sam.

 

“I think I’m concussed.” She grumbled blearily “And there’s a dead guy tied up next to me.  So, I’m peachy keen.”

 There, in fact, was a dead body also tied to the pole to her immediate right. Who knew you could tie so many people to one pole? Vampires are nothing if not masters of morbid Tetris.

 “Where’s Dean?” Jax asked realizing the third Caballero’s absence.

 “I think” he paused  “I hope they have him in one of the cages back there. He really pissed them off when he tried to kill them.” Sam supplied.

 “How long have I been out?”

 “I don’t know. I’ve only been awake for about twenty minutes longer than you.”

 “Fantastic. Well I’m not hungry and I don’t have to shit my pants except for the obvious terrifying reasons so it can't have been that long.” Jax deduced.

 “Do we know what happened to Elkins?” asked Sam.

 “Yeah. He is definitely dead. Pretty sure quality of life is fairly low when your limbs and head are no longer in the same zip code as your torso.”

 “Yeesh.”

 “Upshot, though- now, we won’t have to return the Colt.”

 

“Don’t suppose you happen to have a wooden stake on you.” Sam asked accompanied by a gallows laugh as he rubbed his bound hands against the pole, trying to free to himself.

 “I know you’re joking, but that wouldn’t do shit to these guys. Dead man’s blood will slow them way down, but to kill them you need to decapitate the fuckers.  Giant ass knife would be more..” she paused, remembering the blade she stashed and why her ankle was currently so uncomfortable  “...useful.”

 “Well, that  _would_ be fantastic.”

 “Good thing my tight ass boots were too tight for them to pull off and find mine then.” she smiled, maniacally.

 “Yesssssssssssss.” he replied.

 She laughed in triumph. “Fuck how do we -” she struggled with her foot trying to figure out a way to actually get to the knife, now that they had confirmed its existence.

 “Try kicking, like just side kicking your foot…up.” he posited.

 “What?”  she said, attempting to bring her leg up.

 “Just kick it up so it falls out.”

 “I can’t...I’m not built with Barbie knees.” They bickered. “I can’t bend like…”

 “Just try…”

 

That’s when some of their captors came stumbling in from what had assuredly been a night of frivolity, putting a definitive kibosh on their nascent escape efforts.

 They were a rowdy bunch, towing a boombox (seriously, a boombox)  in with them blasting generic rock trending toward the metal end of the spectrum. They danced and drank and had a generally fun time. If Jax weren’t in mortal peril she might have even enjoyed partying with them.  That’s not true.  A party would have possibly been a bigger nightmare than being eaten alive by vampires. Social interaction.  Yuck.  The only thing to signal them as anything other than a run of the mill biker gang were the blood stains on their clothes. Or maybe that’s right in line with your run of the mill biker gang.  In any event they’d need to pre-treat their clothes if they had any intentions of a repeat wear.

 “Sam. Sam.” Jax whispered urgently.

 “What?” He whispered back worried.

 “She’s wearing a bedazzled camo mini skirt and a cowboy hat. Why is 2005 like this?” Jax asked inclining her head toward the unnamed female vampire currently gyrating to what Jax would have thought of as undanceable music, but wonders never cease.  

 Sam rolled his eyes and continued to worry his restraints.

 

A vampire in a denim vest, beer in hand teetered over to Sam.

 “Boy, you stop wrestling those ropes like a coyote in a bear trap or else I take your eyes out for fun.”

 “Eat me.” Sam egged.

 “Really!?”  Jax admonished Sam.

 “Don’t mind if I do.” The vampire threatened getting a hair’s breadth from a Sam sandwich (sammich) before -

 “Beau! Wait for Luther!” Vampire Kate yelled at Vampire Beau.

 

As if waiting for the sheer mention of his name, at that exact moment, the barn doors flew open to reveal:

  1. Atmospheric smoke
  2. A figure in silhouette
  3. A muscle car with headlights left on against all better judgement and with little to no regard for battery life



 Presumably the second thing in that list was the aforementioned Luther or else that whole dramatic entrance would have been wasted.  Like what if that had been the neighbor boy, Greg?  Go home, Greg.  No one asked for you.  You’re not our son.  

 

Kate ran up to the mystery man and just planted a big ol smoocharoo on his face. A big ole makey outey kissy tongue mouth sucky face thing on his face  Sexual.

“Welcome, back Luther.” Kate said. (Oh my god. It IS Luther. Would you look at that, folks. Amazing. What a coincidence. She was just talking about him and just...wow. Speak of the devil. Just...wow.)

“What do we have here?” Luther asked regarding Jax and Sam.

“Well, you know how I like to have dinner waiting for when my man gets home after a long hard day.” she said, draping herself across Luther’s shoulders.

“Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.” he grabbed Jaxes face by the chin “Don’t you look...interesting.”  

“Don’t you look like the clearance bin at Hot Topic?”

 

It felt like a mallet hitting her jaw when Luther backhanded Jax across the mouth for her insolence. She heard Sam yell and felt him struggle next to her trying to leap to her defense.

“Food is to be seen and not heard.” he retorted.

 

She spat a glob blood out onto the ground, feeling nothing like the badass she would have thought she would  feel if she were writing the situation, and every bit the fear and crippling anger the situation actually brought forth.  Not to mention the bruise and split lip.

"You okay?" Sam asked quietly.

"I will be." she whispered back.

 

“And then there’s this…” Kate said leading Luther to a table.  She held out The Colt to him, grinning like the cat that got the cream.   “It looks like it was made around the time you were born. We got it from Elkins. Caught his scent.”

“Kate, what did you do?” he worried, his voice turning to anger.

“We got him. Ripped him apart. These guys. They’re hunters, too.” she gestured to Sam and Jax.

“There will be others.  They’ll come after us.” he chastised.

 “No. Baby.  They won’t.  We’ll get rid of these guys and that will be it. We’ll be free”  she held his face in her hands.  “Forever.”  She kissed him gently.

 

* * *

 

Hours went by without an opportunity for escape presenting itself.  All the vampires had retired to their vampire hammocks, for a good day’s sleep.  All of the vampires except for Kate and Luther who were getting 9 o’clock time slot on the WB re-acquainted on the one table in the whole joint.   

 

“What the ever-loving fuck is happening, right now?” whispered Jax as the vampire couple threatened to cross the line between network and cable.

“Don’t stare.  Think of.  Not this.”  Sam whispered, trying to avert her eyes.

“I have never been more uncomfortable in my entire life.” said Jax, left eye twitching.  

 

Just then, Luther caught her looking at them over Kate’s shoulder.  He whispered something in her ear and she shrugged.    Luther detached himself from her and ambled over towards Jax.

“Ooo...you like to watch, huh?  Me too.  Why don’t you join us?” he asked caressing a hand down her face.

Jax cringed away.  

“You know what?  I’m cool here. I’m fine. I don’t want to be a third wheel. You two just. Have your fun.  We’re cool.”  she rambled.

 “Have some beer.  It’ll calm your nerves.” He shoved the beer at her.

 “No, thank you.” Jax whipped her head around to her right, even hitting the corpse next to her in an attempt to avoid the bottle.  

 “Leave her alone!” Sam yelled.

 “Shut him up!” Luther yelled at Kate who grabbed a dirty rag and quickly gagged Sam.

 

Luther kept trying to push the bottle in her face but she kept avoiding it, mouth shut tight, until he grabbed her face and shoved the opening in her mouth.

 “Come on. Drink enough and I can taste it in your blood.” he said as he poured it down her throat. “Attagirl.”

 Luther took the bottle away, a satisfied smirk on his face.  

 Jax spat the beer straight into that dumb face. His face lit up in anger.

 “You little bitch, you’re gonna pay for that.” he grabbed her by the throat hauling her into the air, her hands still tied to beam behind her, her legs kicking wildly. 

 

Sam tried to struggle to his feet, to fight, but Kate pinned him to the ground his head ratcheted around so he could see whatever Luther would do next.  

 “Wait!” Kate yelled.

 “What!” said Luther.

 Jax’s face turned blue as she struggled for any amount breath.

 “Let’s make her watch the others die first!” Kate suggested, joy in her eyes.

 “Honey, you are both sexy and smart.”  Luther said, letting Jax fall unceremoniously to the ground where she hacked and gasped for air.

“Wake up! Breakfast time!”  called Luther, shaking the other vamps awake.

Kate disappeared to the back of the barn.

 

“I love that woman.”  Luther said, raising the beer which had found half of its final resting place on his clothes, to his lips.

 

Kate returned a moment later, hauling out a bloodied, bruised,  bound and gagged Dean, before pushing him to his knees in front of Jax and Sam.  Luther took another sip of his beer before handing it to Kate who finished it off.  The other vampires gathered around, licking their chops, waiting for the feast to start.

 

The opening riff to Heart’s “Barracuda” played on the dumb boombox.

 

Luther picked a rusty machete off the table, weighing it in his hand.  He strutted over towards a sweaty and beaten Dean.  Dean and Sam locked eyes for all Dean thought could be the last time.  All Jax could do was rasp “No” from where she was still tied up.

 Luther grabbed Dean by his short hair, exposing his neck and brought the machete blade up under his chin, ready to slit his throat. Dean screwed his eyes shut against his now imminent demise.

 

Luther coughed, stumbling back and doubling over, dropping the machete.

“Baby?”  Kate said, approaching him.

Luther fell to the ground, paralyzed. Kate rushed to his side. “Baby!” she screamed.  

Dean wiggled his bound hands around to the front of his body, then threw himself towards the felled machete.

Sam jumped to his feet, his hands now free, brandishing the knife Jax had knocked out of her boot when Luther decided to choke her.  He ripped the gag from his mouth.

Two vampires advanced on him and he made a wild swing landing the knife in what remained of Vampire Extra #1’s throat from earlier, just enough to finish decapitating the poor bastard, before pushing off and body slamming the other one into a nearby piece of rusted farm equipment, impaling him on some thresher spikes.  

 Vampire Beau tackled Dean to the ground, but Dean rolled him and with bound hands brought the rusty machete down on the denim vested vamp’s neck, severing his head.

 

Kate, cried “What is happening?” over Luther’s paralyzed form. She sputtered and coughed, before she, too was paralyzed.

 Sam rushed over to Jax and cut her free from the wooden beam, helping her up.

 “Thanks” she said.

 

Just then thresher impaled vampire ripped himself from the spikes and made a dead run at Sam from behind.

 A loud BANG!  As something hit the vampire, center mass, stopping the vampire dead in his tracks.  The vampire looked over his shoulder at where the sound originated.

 He saw Dean Winchester, The Colt smoking in his hand.

 

Thresher Vamp laughed for a second because vampires can’t be killed by bullets, Silly Goose. But then what was this crazy light coming from the bullet hole?

 “What the sh-”  he got out before before the life was zapped out of him.

 

Jax, Sam and Dean gathered around the paralyzed Luther and Kate.

 “Dead man’s blood.  How?”  Luther sputtered before Jax answered with a smile, her teeth covered in blood.  

 “Had a nibble on the leftovers you had tied up next to me, before you shoved that beer in my face.  Thought you wouldn’t mind, but, I guess I backwashed like crazy.”  rasped Jax.  

 “Oh, that’s fucking gross.” Dean said trying not to vomit.

 “I KNOW IT’S FUCKING GROSS, DEAN WINCHESTER IT’S IN MY MOUTH AND I FUCKING DID THAT.  AND NOW I DEFINITELY HAVE DISEASES AND NEED COUNSELING.GET ME SOME MOUTHWASH.”  Jax meant to scream, but since she was recovering was a severe vampire choking it instead came out as a raspy high pitched whisper.

Dean nose snorted at her voice. “You sound like a cartoon.”

“I GOT STRANGLED.”

 

“Ooo, I’m ready. Let’s eat some people…” said Bedazzled Camo Mini Skirt Vamp just now rolling out of her hammock.   

“Mmm, so hungry.” she yawned sashaying her way toward what she thought would be her breakfast.   She was three steps away when she finally took in the scene of her 3 hunter breakfast freed standing over her Leaders’ immobilized bodies.   Her eyes darted between the hunters holding weapons.

“Aw, crap.” she said before darting off into the woods.

* * *

 

Several vampire decapitations, a barn burning, and a gallon of mouthwash picked up while on the way back to Elkins' and the appropriate calls that would have to come after that later, they were back in Baby.  

 

“You’ve gotta admit, though, Dean.”  Jax said from the backseat.

“What?”  he took the bait.

“Barracuda was the perfect song for that fight.” Jax smirked.

“Oh my god.” he rolled his eyes.

“Heart IS magical.” she said, her eyes glittering.

“So, are you a cannibal, now?” asked Dean.

“FUCK OFF. I DIDN’T EAT HIM. I GOT SOME OF THE VAMP BITE BLOOD IN MY MOUTH.”

“You know they call it ‘longpig’” poked Dean.

“Imma longpig you.” said Jax.

 

“Can we please find Dad now!?”  interrupted an annoyed Sam.

 

“Yeah. We have the gun.  Let’s go see Missouri.” said Jax  “Why you so upset?”

“Yeah, Sam why you so upset?” egged Dean.

“Why so angry, Sam?” teased Jax.

“Sam, why so angry?” parroted Dean.

“Sam.” said Jax.

“Sam.” said Dean.

“Sammmayyyyyy.”

“Samwise Gamgee.”

“Samwell Tarly.”

“Sammy Davis, Junior.”

Sam rolled his eyes and turned toward the window as Baby rolled down I-70 East.


End file.
